Ultimate Amiss
by Hawkflight7
Summary: He'll keep questioning it much later in life; what would have happened if he hadn't seen her that day.
1. Chapter 1

**Ultimate Amiss I**

 **Summary: He'll keep questioning it much later in life; what would have happened if he hadn't seen her that day.**

 **Because there is a severe lack of these two as a pairing in any capacity. Therefore I will be adopting them until this is fixed.**

The room is devoid of color, the fluorescent light hanging from above only serves to make this even more obvious as every surface is coated in a sheet of metal with even more metallic colored tools sitting on top of that. The machines in the corner are currently off, silent, giving a sort-of eerie feel to the room. Like it is sleeping but will come awake at any moment to catch some unexpecting prey in its jaws, to strap a person down on that table as doctors hover above them - his teachers.

It's bland and where he spends most of his time, wondering what insight his teachers will have for the day when they come by to check on him. It would still be at least ten minutes though, as he usually didn't wake up earlier than that and then his classes in the next room over would begin. It was a small section of Hope Peak's Academy, but to him it was his whole world. Where he was kept as a secret as the teachers explained the way the world worked and his part in it.

Izuru was to be the Ultimate Hope, filled with nothing but talent for every skill on this earth; even such things as mundane as being the best listener, more like therapist.

He sighed, reaching up to pull the metal grate over the window down by just a few inches to see outside. The window was placed just above the grass field, so it didn't offer much of a view, especially if something was up close. But for today there was no abandoned red ball obscuring his vision. He could see clearly, which could be considered a blessing since he hardly got an opportunity to open the window in the first place, it was much more colorful than this room, less bland. But eventually even the bright colors - the sunlight - would bore him. He would much rather be in that classroom, learning new things from his teachers.

His eyes caught on a group of people standing on the far side of the field, flitting over most of them only to pause midway through assessing them.

Izuru's gaze had stopped on a girl with a thick mass of curls, blonde and tied up into two pigtails. The head of a white bunny with pointed ears kept the left one pinned into place, while a large white and red bow kept the hair on the right pinned. Her eyes were a bright blue, but it seemed... unnatural.

As he continued to watch her, her movements seemed odd as well, bright and hyper for the next few seconds the group was talking, but becoming more subdued after they had walked away. It didn't take long for her behavior to change again when one of the students ran back to her, guitar in hand, talking animatedly, body always in motion. In fact, the girl appeared to be mimicking the other, not in such a way to be taken rudely, just joining in with the guitar girl's energetic aura.

It was clearly a mask, every single action was measured out carefully, to keep the changes subtle. Unless you possessed an eye that was trained to notice these things. Like him and probably a few other Ultimates.

This girl, undoubtedly an Ultimate since she attended the Academy was now walking alongside the guitar wielding blue-haired one into the school. Even from just seeing her back it bothered Izuru, that tugging in the back of his mind.

The feeling that he had seen her before.

But he couldn't call up the memory that contained her. Memories if she was in more than one, and he got the sense that she was.

His tongue moved unbidden in his mouth, trying to draw the familiar syllables from his throat, but the air around him remained empty. The only sound came from the door leading into the room sliding open.

"Izuru Kamukura?" His gaze moved from the window and to the door, to the man that stood in the frame, Yasuke Matsuda: his neurologist, fellow student, and Ultimate. "Are you ready to begin today?"

He glanced back to the window for a moment, but the girl was gone now. "Yeah," Izuru muttered, sliding the grate back into place and leaving the screws to it on his mattress. One of the teachers would probably put them back later and eventually he would take them out again, no matter what enhancements they added to the grate.

He was an Ultimate after all, they couldn't actually stop him from doing something if he happened to get bored. Which was about ninety percent of the time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ultimate Amiss II**

 **I'm so glad you guys are already enjoying the story! And I hope this chapter doesn't throw you for a loop too hard.**

He stood in line to renew his school ID for the upcoming year, wishing with every passing second that the process was faster, but he was finally half-way there. Now if only he had some plugs for his ears so he didn't have to listen to those around him for the remaining duration of time that he would need to stand here.

Granted, it would probably get longer as students made the excuse that they needed to go first since they were above him. Not that he was being singled out. No, this was just part of the economic chain here at Hope's Peak. The Ultimates always got their way - it was just a fact every Reserve Course student had to accept. Though, he had gotten here an hour earlier to avoid this sort of thing, but his strategy clearly hadn't worked.

A student a few paces ahead of him in the line suddenly burst from the throng, running off to disappear outside. He didn't particularly feel relieved that there was one less person ahead of him now, though.

Instead Hajime quickly moved his gaze to a clear patch of wall to his right as a group of Ultimates turned to face him after sending off their latest quarry, but that one had been new. He wasn't. Hajime had been attending Hope's Peak since last year and even if they did come after him next he wasn't going to run off and lose his place in line so he showed up at his class late just because a bunch of Ultimate Bullies of all things.

Okay, he could have thought harder on that pun; it had to be the same thought of every Reserve Course student here. Completely unoriginal.

"Hey." He cursed silently in his head when the voice was clearly directed at him; he really hadn't wanted to deal with today of all days, when he absolutely _had_ to stand here and couldn't just leave on a whim. "You're another of those Reserve Course students, right?"

It felt like a whole minute ticked by until another of them spoke up, "Hey, we're talking to _you_." There was a sharp prod of a finger against his shoulder. "Are you deaf or just impolite? Answer the question, shrimp."

"Why bother asking?" A third voice grated on his ears. "If he were an Ultimate it would be obvious. Not even a new comer to this school could mistake a Reserve Course student for an Ultimate. He's plain, not even wearing clothes from a popular brand, much less anything that's trending. In fact, it looks like the usual school outfit, which isn't even mandatory." The voice stopped, but it was only for a second as that same person walked around him so they were right in his face, no longer allowing him to look away. "He's clearly just showing off that he goes to this school. After all, every Ultimate here is scouted for not only having a talent, but being the best at what they do. So this shrimp's parents just paid for him to get in as a Reserve Course student so they could say their son was attending the famous Hope's Peak Academy. It's always the same story with them." The Ultimate sneered down at him, so sure that his own story could be bunched up with the rest of them.

He wanted to wipe the sneer of his face and the other two as well with some witty comeback but there was just no point. Not when it was all true. His parents had paid a lot of money to get him into the Academy, just like the other two thousand plus Reserve Course students currently attending. Wearing the school outfit did fill him with a sense of pride for being able to attend the prestigious school and he knew his parents would gloat about him being at the academy at dinner parties, any gathering really if the opportunity presented itself.

It wasn't anything surprising. He was plain and ordinary compared to the Ultimates that attended, but at the very least he didn't go picking on other students for not being 'superior.' Yeah, he needed to get different insults to hurl mentally at people like this. Besides, not every Ultimate bullied the Reserve Course students; it was more like they just didn't associate with them at all, period.

"Still nothing to say? Trying to be all strong and silent are you? Well, we'll see how long that lasts. It certainly didn't last very long for that newb."

He could feel his jaw begin to tighten and forced his muscles to relax. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight because he couldn't keep his emotions from showing on his face.

Hajime kept his face blank as the Ultimate continued to stare at him, looking for the usual signs of weakness so they could, 'go in for the kill.' He blinked when they lowered them-self down to his height, probably trying to intimidate him further, but Hajime merely stepped forward, closing the distance between them by a few inches when the people ahead of him - the more civil ones, that is - moved a bit when the next person in line was done.

The Ultimate was narrowing his own eyes, about to speak - probably to irritate Hajime further and into actual action - when he heard a girl's voice in the direction from the front door that had just burst open.

"Oh my, I thought I was going to be early, but look at the line! So _long_." A tapping of heels sounded as most - if not all - students in the proximity turned to see the Ultimate Gyaru, arriving fashionably late for the first day of school and making a bee line for the front of the line. "You wouldn't mind if I cut in, would you?" she was asking, lips upturned into a smile a normal person just didn't have the capability to say no to.

While the Ultimates attention was away from him for the moment Hajime attempted to step aside: toward the wall, so maybe he could get away from this particular group through a narrow passage, but the idea got squashed when he saw people still leaning against the wall. So he would need to take a more direct route, since he didn't have much time before this opportunity slipped away.

He dashed out of the line, an abrupt, "Hey! Where the hell you goin' squirt!" sounding behind him, but he ignored it not caring that he was technically running away as he sprinted for the front of the line.

"Thank you so much-"

"Junko," he blurted out as she was about to step to the front, skidding to a stop just before he ran into her.

Her strawberry blonde curls give an extra bounce as she takes a step back, blue eyes glancing over him and he just can't believe she actually stopped and that he had actually made it as her eyes widen after a second.

He's sure he sees the surprise in her gaze and only hopes she won't say anything about not expecting him to be here, or anything else embarrassing for that matter after having to deal with the group he would now refer to as thugs that had to be burning a hole through his back right about now. Probably trying to figure out what he was up to; if he really knew Junko or was looking for a quick pass to the front to get the hell away from them.

From the flash of those blue eyes she must have already figured out the situation and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief when she offers a smile to him. "Hajime." She spread her arms wide and for a split-second he regrets every life decision he's ever made up until now, because now her arms are around him and he still doesn't have full control over his momentum after rushing towards her and falls face first into her chest; and she's laughing above him.

God damn it, this is going to come up in one of those ice breaker games later in class, isn't it? Which m-and-m did the teachers use for embarrassing situations again?

He puffs his cheeks out defiantly against her cleavage, not even bothering to make an attempt to move until she more-or-less rights him up herself and then turns with a cheeky grin to skip to the front of the line, gripping his wrist.

Hajime is quick to tell the receptionist that's he's renewing his student ID and hands it over before they even asked for it. So they can scan and renew it for the year, typing up some new data on the computer. He's trying to ignore the stares he feels on every inch of his body, judging him and totally thinking _he_ did that intentionally.

By the time he's done though Junko is retrieving a new student ID from the other worker, having jumped straight for the photo taking area and striking a pose earlier. She was more than just cooperative for the process, breezing through the actions and having everything ready even though this was her first time here.

So he doesn't even try to walk a fraction faster when he hears her boots coming up from behind him, feeling an arm lock around his an instant later. "You should come with me to my fashion class, Hajime. I'll need a model to try on the designs I've made," she doesn't bother to lower her voice, letting anyone hear that might be listening.

Read: everyone.

He wants to point out that this is her first day, that even if by chance that's the sort of thing her teacher has planned for today she doesn't have any designs for it, but she probably has _something_ in her purse she can call a design if he doesn't go with her. So he pushes down the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, completely ignore whatever taunts he'll be hearing later and just continues to walk calmly beside her.

Honestly, he just hopes she's actually designing men's clothing and not woman's for today.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ultimate Amiss III**

 **I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

It's taken a week. An entire week, for him to find an opening to slip away not only from his teachers and Yasuke, but the building he was usually confined to. Right about now they must have realized he was gone, but considering he hadn't done anything suspicious in the days leading up to it they weren't going to find him.

The school was huge, and he hadn't seen most of it; so if they thought he was walking around to new locations to see more of it that wouldn't help them in the slightest. Of course, he hadn't left any hints where he had gone either. Not like he would have been able to. Since when he first set out he didn't know where she would be.

Izuru had simply listened to a number of conversations before giving up on any populated place. His theory that she wasn't actually surrounded by people at the moment was only confirmed when he heard she had gone off with someone named Ibuki. With this piece of information in mind he made his way to the roof; he just had this feeling that that's where she would be. Izuru couldn't really explain it, how a part of him just knew this, but he trekked up the stairs, avoiding the main means of getting around: namely elevators, which he would have had to ditch three stories before he reached the top anyway.

He stopped climbing the stairs when he noticed the door was slightly ajar on the last landing. As he no longer heard his own dull footsteps climbing up the metal stairs he could hear them talking ahead of him.

"Yeah, I guess," an unfamiliar voice filled his ears. That had to be Ibuki then. If it had been Junko he would have recognized her voice just like he had back on that field where he first spotted her. "Actually, I was thinking of starting a new club here. But in a more appropriate direction for the band, you know?"

"Mhm. It doesn't sound like a bad idea, but it'll probably be a bit difficult." That was Junko, but... something was off. Her voice sounded different than usual; no, it sounded different from his dream the other night. Or rather what he could remember from it.

"Every club starts on shaky legs, though. Right?" Ibuki sounded unsure, clearly asking for clarification on Junko's part.

"Of course," Junko agreed. "It's just everyone knows what sort of music you did in that group, so it's likely to draw in more people that associate themselves with it rather than the new sound you're going for. You're famous for your work in your old band even after you left. Your fans would be expecting more of the same, not this new you."

Ibuki gave a heavy sigh. "You're right. It's going to be tough recreating my image. I thought these new clothes would help and to an extent they do. People have to give me double, sometimes triple-takes just to recognize me, but they always ask when my new album is coming out. They're still expecting the same kind of music."

"Well, I'm sure your die-hard fans will stick by you no matter what music you intend to play. They'll be the minority for awhile, but you'll get new fans as you go. You just have to learn to ignore the media; they like to spread their rumors and tear into idols of the entertainment industry. It's the same no matter where you go."

"I know." Ibuki went silent afterwards and Izuru could only guess that she was thinking about what Junko had said.

On the surface it looked to be good sound advice, but as he rolled the words around in his head he couldn't believe that Junko was trying to encourage her to go for her dream. It sounded like she was discouraging the other girl, telling her repeatedly about all the hardships she'll face, how she'll never get away from her past.

It certainly seemed like Ibuki was trying to get away from her past, disassociate herself from some old band. He could only guess that she was a musician after seeing her with the instrument from before and hearing her talk just now. She sounded upset, like the world was crushing her and though Junko seemed to be her friend she was just increasing that weight on her shoulders.

Is that why he had sensed in her tone of voice before? This way she spun her words, making Ibuki-

"Hey." Izuru turned quickly to see a girl standing on the stairs not too far below him, blue eyes narrowed at him, her dark hair in something resembling a pixie bob. When did she get there? Why didn't he hear her? How long had she been there, anyways? She was frowning now when she spoke, raising her voice, "What are you doing?"

It only took him a second to register the sudden, "Eh?" from behind him. So this girl had intentionally raised her voice so Junko and Ibuki would hear her, alerting them to his presence in the process. "I got to go."

Izuru stepped aside as Ibuki came flying down the stairs, leaving the door wide open behind her. He could feel Junko's gaze burning into his back now, but in all honesty this worked better for him. With Ibuki gone he didn't need to wait for her to leave or otherwise interrupt her talk with Junko before the staff happened to find him.

This girl had certainly come at a good time. "Thanks. I had wanted to speak alone with Junko, but she appeared busy a moment ago."

The girl didn't move, her lips turning further down as she looked at him. "Don't thank me. It's rude to listen to other people's conversations intentionally. If you had wanted to speak with Junko you should have opened the door at the very least and made it known you were there to speak with her. I'm sure Junko would have understood and Ibuki wouldn't be embarrassed right now. So make it quick." With those words the girl turned around and started walking back down the stairs, disappearing in seconds. Even while looking at her he couldn't hear her steps on the metal staircase.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

At the sound of Junko's voice he turned around to face her. She was sitting on a raised concrete platform on the roof: legs spread out in front of her, crossed at the ankle, feet dangling off the edge of the concrete slab, arms positioned behind her, palms flat on the grey surface, looking at him with a critical eye.

"I wanted to ask..." Izuru paused as he stepped onto the roof, glancing around, noticing how high up they were and the absence of a chain link fence around the perimeter. The only 'fence' as it were was a slab of stone about two feet high that encircled the roof. It didn't seem to be the safest place considering this was a school where students largely went wherever they wanted. As his gaze settled back on Junko her head tilted to the side, one leg now raised, bent, left foot resting beside her right knee, crossing over her other leg in the process; as if she were striking a pose. "I've seen you around and was trying to remember where I had seen you before."

Junko blinked at him then laughed, "Well, of course you have. I'm a model."

Izuru gave a small shake of his head. "I know you're the Ultimate Gyaru. I wanted to ask where we had met. I'm having some difficulty remembering it."

"Hmm." Junko turned onto her side, gaze roaming over him for a few seconds before she gave a shake of her head. "Sorry. I can't remember all of my fans."

Izuru blinked this time. Fan? He didn't recall acting like a fan from that dream - memory - of her. She had clearly known him, even teased him after putting him in such a compromising situation. A sort of 'price' for going to her to get away from... something. He couldn't remember all of the details, but he was sure they had been close. That he hadn't just been some fan. She had called him by name even.

He watched as she started to get up from the slab of concrete, smoothing down her skirt when she stood up. "I find that a bit hard to believe-"

"Yes, I'm sure if I had seen you before I would have recognized you. I don't think I've ever seen a guy wear their hair so long before, and your style of clothing is a bit unique as well. The contacts on the other hand aren't, but still not the most popular color to choose from." Junko paused, digging out her phone from her pocket to snap a picture of him a moment later. "There. To commemorate our first meeting. I can send it to you if you want as proof. Now, unless you have something more important to talk about then maybe we should talk later, instead?"

Izuru nearly too a step back at the tone of her voice. She clearly thought he was a fan, some creepy fan that was quite possibly trying to hit on her - in her eyes, that is. How could she not recognize him when he had known he had seen her before at a glance? Was it just that easy for her to forget people she had been close to? Even before she first came to this Academy? Or... or had that been a mask then, to? Has she talked with him just like she had been talking to Ibuki earlier?

His lips drew down as she stepped past him. "I see. So that's the sort of person you are."

"Huh?" She stopped walking and he turned around to face her. "What nonsense are you going on about now?"

"You just manipulate people, don't you? For whatever personal gain you get from it and then you forget about them. Once they've served their purpose you just throw them away like trash and that's what you planned to do to me, wasn't it?" Junko looked about to snap at him, but he continued swiftly, not allowing her to get a word in. "You thought you could manipulate me like that girl, Ibuki. Always hiding behind those masks of yours like a snake. Do you even have a true face? Or did you hide it behind all that makeup, bleached hair, and your own color contacts?"

As he took a breath, registering Junko's hard gaze on him he blinked. Where had that come from? He had suddenly felt a sort-of fire inside him and then just let it out, just like that. His words had clearly effected her and looking into those eyes he could see a fire in them as well. He wasn't unfamiliar with the look, but... feeling it; that was different.

How did she drag that emotion out of him?

"Forget it," Izuru muttered, walking past her quickly to hurry down the stairs, right past that other girl that was now quickly ascending the steps, shooting a glare at him as she passed by. But he couldn't bother to pay attention to her own anger for upsetting Junko. He was still trying to understand why he had felt such an emotion in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ultimate Amiss IV**

 **Back to Hajime!**

 **For the Rebirth of the Daily Weird Prompt Thing [Competition] prompt: candy**

"Move it!"

A shout came from behind him and Hajime stepped to the right, nearly colliding with a pedestrian as a bike spun past where he had been, weaving in and out of the crowded path. He stepped back into place after a moment, checking that no one else was following the cyclist.

After a few more steps though he turned sharply into an alleyway, leaving the other pedestrians behind as he passed beaten-looking doors, graffiti sprayed over them and onto the walls. He only stopped when he came to one with a bright pink star, only devoid of graffiti because it kept getting cleaned off on a semi-regular basis.

Hajime considered knocking to check if anyone was currently nearby, but he didn't want to cause any trouble for those inside. Whether they were a model or a photographer, but especially if it was the manager. The last time he had seen that woman she had told him to wait at the back instead of the front, so he didn't deter customers from entering by loitering outside.

So he walked over to the wall, finding a place that didn't look too disgusting to wait for her. According to his watch Junko should have been let out ten minutes ago, but she had said she would wait for him if she happened to be let out early or on time for that matter. Her hours were becoming even more unpredictable the longer she worked here. He was pretty sure it was against employment laws in some way, but as he kept hearing every model agency that wasn't 'on the map' worked like this.

The door swung open then and his gaze met with one of the employees, who had a trash bag in hand. "You waiting for Junko, again?" He just gave a nod of his head, at this point he was sure most of the people in this company knew why he was here. "They're doing some last minute shots, but those should be done soon."

"Thanks," he said, for the person giving him some information. At least, they weren't saying she would be in there for another hour or two - which happened occasionally.

"No problem," the man replied, walking down the alley to one of the dumpsters to drop the bag in, before he was heading back.

As the employee went to enter the building a flash of bright blonde hair flew out the opening, shouting, "Go! Go!" Hajime was just pushing off from the wall when Junko's hand wrapped around his elbow, pulling him down the alley as she ran.

He swore he could hear a shout from behind, "You damn cunt! Do you know how much getting this stain off my shirt is going to cost me? Get back here!" On top of that he could also hear laughter, likely coming from the other employee.

Hajime twisted his head back, trying to get a look at the man shouting at Junko light that; he wanted to shout back for using that language when speaking to her, but then Junko had already pulled him around the corner, out of the alley, and onto a sidewalk. She didn't stop running though, pulling him a full five blocks away, turning another corner, before she even came to a stop.

Junko collapsed into his side, nearly putting all her weight against him and he stumbled for a moment, his right shoulder hitting a wall being the only thing to balance him quick enough so he didn't go sprawling onto the ground. "I'm exhausted," Junko said, yawning before resting her head on his shoulder as he used the wall to right himself up.

"What happened back there?" he asked. Hajime knew she used to get in arguments with the manager, but it had been months since that last happened. Besides, he hadn't heard the manager shouting after her along with that man - more like a disgusting pig, by the glance he had managed to get.

She sighed, blowing air against his neck in the process. "He wanted a private picture for some collection with my face near his crotch, the fucking bastard. Real models don't put up with that sort of shit. So, I poured the wine from his glass on his shirt." Junko giggled against his shoulder. "That stain isn't going to come out no matter what he does."

Hajime frowned, now really wanting to go back and punch the fuck for trying to use a modeling agency for his own amusement. "You should have shoved the glass into his crotch," he muttered, earning another giggle from Junko. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Junko said. "But I'm hungry. Can you pick something out?"

"Sure." Hajime glanced around the sidewalk, spotting some food vendors and a grocery store just a little ways down. His gaze continued to travel around the area before spotting a not so crowded area with stone benches surrounded by metal architecture. "You can wait over there if you're tired." He motioned to the spot with his free hand.

Junko lifted her head from his shoulder, looking over to the place. "Excellent." She released his arm then, standing up. "See ya!" With a wave she was off, crossing the street just as the light changed to go there.

Hajime raised his hand slightly, in a mini wave before looking back over his shoulder to the vendors. What should he get for them? Something fast, since Junko's lunch break wasn't particularly long.

He started down the sidewalk, gaze scanning over the food when he got to the vendors. Most of them were more like snacks then meals, so he continued until he came to a stand offering yakitori and nikuman. That was more like what he had been looking for, but... he wanted to check the store first before he decided.

With a smile at the vendor in apology for standing there and not getting anything at the moment he continued walking along the sidewalk, turning to enter the grocery store. But after a glance at the heated food inside he dismissed the idea of getting something like that from here. Instead he walked down an aisle to stop and glance over some candy. Not the best side dish ever, but he wanted something sweet. After a moment of deliberation between a couple different candies he grabbed a candy kit, paying for it at the front and carrying the small bag out of the store.

Hajime stopped by the vendor once more. His gaze flickered from the grilled chicken and pork bun, before he pulled out some yen to give to the woman running the stand. "Two yakitoris, please."

"Sure thing," the woman replied, sticking the money he handed over into a cashier before picking up two bamboo sticks with grilled chicken skewered onto them, pouring some sauce over them to hand them over a second later. "Thank you."

He gave a nod as he grabbed the bamboo, making sure he didn't run into anyone as he walked down the sidewalk. Hajime only had to wait a minute before the light changed and he could cross the street, licking at his arm when some of the sauce dripped onto it while he had been waiting.

Hajime walked over to the bench Junko was sitting on, offering the yakitori that hadn't dripped on him. "Here you go."

"Thanks." She took the bamboo stick, biting into a piece of chicken an instant later. "What's in the bag?' she asked, after swallowing, glancing to the bag hanging off his arm.

"Oh." He maneuvered it off his arm to sit on the bench in between them. "It's a candy kit," he said pulling the box out from the bag; he opened it awkwardly with one hand revealing a packet of Koala's March, a mini bag of petite truffle, and some yōkan.

Junko paused from taking another bite of her yakitori, picking up the Koala's March packet. "What's this? Are we children now?"

Hajime took a moment to respond as he had just taken a bite of his own yakitori. The juices from the chicken dribbled down his chin, the sauce sticking to his lips. "I'll eat it if you don't want it," he said, after swallowing, licking the sauce from his lips a moment later before taking another bite.

She set the packet back down in the box. "I have to watch my weight."

He almost rolled his eyes. "Every girl makes that excuse." Not that the snack was even really fattening in his opinion, but he figured she was talking more about the carbs from the cookie more than anything. She certainly wasn't going to leave most of that yōkan sitting there for him.

"It's not an excuse when it's part of your job."

He supposed that was true, she wasn't saying those words because she was unhappy with her body or thought she was fat when there was no evidence of that being true. As long as the company didn't start demanding that she became nearly anorexic for their shoots it didn't matter what he said on that front. He didn't even know why she didn't just go and switch companies, especially when she had been fighting with that manager about the type of shoots she would be doing. Her pay still wasn't even that good, and her 'fans' well... that was a different story.

She could easily go to one of those bigger companies that treated their models better. It's not like she was an idol after all. "Junko-" he had intended on telling her to just switch companies when a koala was pushed into his open mouth.

Junko's painted nail rested against his lower lip for a moment. "You eat it since I can't," she said, poking the koala against his tongue. "Make sure you savor it, the pineapple ones are hard to get your hands on."

He closed his mouth after she had moved her hand away, making a show of taking his time to chew, tasting the pineapple filling when the cookie cracked beneath his teeth. Once he had swallowed it down he spoke, "Then just have one so you're not missing out on the opportunity. Since they're rare." Like you, but the words got caught in his throat. Someone like him certainly couldn't say that to someone like her; and as much as he wanted to, he wasn't going to pick up one of the koalas to slide past her own lips.

Junko seemed to consider his spoken words though and picked up one of the koalas, peddling away on a bike. She held it between two fingers, pressing another to the center so the cookie cracked beneath the pressure. With the koala now split in half she raised both halves to her mouth, tongue flicking out to lick up the pineapple filling.

Hajime turned away when he felt his gaze lingering for too long, quickly taking another bite of his yakitori.

He remained silent as he finished the grilled chicken, setting the bamboo stick into the bag from the grocery store, where Junko had placed the cookie remains before eating the rest of her own yakitori. She had finished earlier than him and was now humming around a piece of yōkan in her mouth.

"You should take the rest with you back to work, as a snack." he said, only taking the Koala's March packet out from the kit, leaving the yōkan and mini bag of petite truffle inside the candy kit.

Junko glanced over at him. "You don't want any?"

Usually he would grab a piece of yōkan before she devoured all of them, but this time he just shook his head. "I got them for you."

She gave him a bright smile as she picked up the candy kit, getting up from the bench. "Thanks, Hajime."

He watched her as she took off down the sidewalk, heading back to the agency.

 **This took place before Junko became known as the Ultimate Gyaru. I will continue to jump along the timeline when it comes to these flashbacks.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ultimate Amiss V**

 **I recently put up a digital art of Hajime and Junko on my DeviantArt and AO3 accounts. Take a look if it interests you.**

He grips a screwdriver in one hand, a wrench in another seconds after the door has closed behind a professor that has just exited his room. Somehow when checking for such tools in his room so he can't open the window again they keep overlooking the tiles beneath the medical equipment.

The ones he had loosened over time with a variety of other tools, which are now stored there along with anything else they wouldn't allow him to have in the room if they knew about it.

Izuru doesn't even question their stupidity anymore, though. Why they have negated to put up cameras if they really wonder what he's doing when they're not there. The reasons for not putting them up were endless and not something he could accurately guess anyway. Not without breaking into one of their high security rooms to hack past all the security that would be present in any computers in the room. That, and honestly he didn't care to go through all that trouble to find out which of the reasons it was.

He was much more focused on the grate in front of him, using the tools in perfect harmony to get rid of the bolts secured over the screws before taking those out as well. Izuru wedged a cat's paw between the grate and wall, pushing down on the handle and using the wall as leverage, much like a crowbar to separate the metal from the wall.

Since the solution on the back of the metal had only been stuck on recently and hadn't completely dried the corner was pulled up after a few good tugs, and he repeated the process for the other corners and wherever the grate still stuck to the wall. Eventually it just fell off, no longer able to stay on and he proceeded to get up from his bed, with the grate in hand.

Izuru walked across the room, getting onto the counter top so he could access the vent, pulling it open to deposit the grate inside before closing it once more. After that he put the nails for it back in on the bottom after retrieving his tools, sticking the bolts over them. He hoped his teachers had as much fun getting them off as he had-

His lips curled down into a frown as he stared at the vent, the last bolt now in place. Was he actually mad at his teachers? He didn't recall ever having much of an opinion about them before now; he wanted to learn more from them, see what new talents he could acquire, the challenges they would present to him, but... He had never been angry at them before, or even particularly happy when he succeeded in his tasks.

After all, he knew he would succeed. There wasn't any question about it, him being the Ultimate Hope and all.

Odd.

It was almost like that time when he had a sudden burst of anger in him from Junko's attitude, but this also felt different... He wasn't sure how to describe it. As he usually didn't care that his teachers would put reinforcements on the window, especially after he had left his room that day.

Yes, they hadn't liked that. they had raised their voices at him a bit, but he hadn't cared to raise his own voice in turn. They were the ones that told him he was better than everyone else because of his talents. Which meant he was better than them, that he didn't really need to listen to them unless it benefited him. Right? He was superior to the common rabble, even the Ultimates in this very school. He was better, he had no reason to get upset at those beneath him.

So what was this spark inside him? Anger? Annoyance? It was already slipping away and after a second of staring at the vent he made no attempt to grab onto it. Whatever it was it was gone now. Nothing for him to worry about.

He gave a small shake of his head, setting those thoughts aside as he got down from the counter, feet hitting the floor now. Izuru walked back over to his bed, getting on top to stare out the window once again.

He recognized Junko immediately, and the girl Ibuki that was sitting next to her, backs against a tree. They were chattering away once again, but he couldn't hear the words like last time. From the looks of it the mood was brighter than it had been on that rooftop. But maybe that was just because of the other people around them, talking as well.

Junko raised one manicured hand, red nails flashing in the sunlight as she waved at some passing student, pausing to grab her bag before jumping up to run after them. For just a moment he thought he saw her features darken, teeth glinting between her lips; as if she was a wolf that had just found a tasty rabbit, but then it was gone. She was smiling, walking beside the person as she spoke.

He wished he could hear the words, as he was almost positive they were as twisted as when he had caught her speaking to Ibuki. How did the other people fail to realize what she was doing? Planting some sort of destructive seed into their mind that would later blow up into a black hole and drag that very person inside.

Her wolf persona as it were, finding that nick in a person's army and chipping away until they fell down into a pit of spikes, only injuring themselves as she pranced away. He had to wonder if she had done that to him at some point. If that's why he remembered seeing her, but not much else. Had he suppressed those memories because she had made him fall into his very own pit?

He knew from reading and studying various subjects that people did that; forgetting traumatic things that had happened to them in the past. It was a coping mechanism. And it was the only theory of his that made any sense whenever his thoughts drifted to her.

The only problem being that he couldn't remember if that was even correct or not. It was just a hypothesis and without any evidence to support it it would just fall apart.

Izuru's gaze flickered back to Ibuki as he saw Junko disappear into a building.

How long would it take before her own bomb ticked down to zero? She was sitting among a group of friends, but not talking to a single one. There was a sort of... empty glaze to her eyes. Like she was lost in her own mind, thinking about something else rather than the conversation happening around her. Was she already falling, then?

Should he... should he what? It was that girl's problem, not his that she had become enraptured in Junko's words. Only an idiot would listen to a wolf. So what if the girl was also an Ultimate? She was clearly beneath him if she fell for such low tricks.

Izuru turned from the window, back flat against the wall.

It didn't concern him. Not what was happening to Ibuki, not what Junko was doing to those people, none of it. It was their own fault if they burned. Not his.


	6. Chapter 6

**Ultimate Amiss VI**

 **Don't forget to leave a comment if you like the story :)**

His gaze keeps straying to the stationary stand to his right, rather than staying on what he came to get from the store. With an inward sigh Hajime steps toward it, looking over the items hanging off the hooks.

Each item was in the shape of some small animal, in varying chibi styles. Cute little accessories for everyday items: headphones, key rings, cell phones... His eyes stopped on a phone strap charm: a collection of red and white thread winding around a black cord that would attach to the cell phone, and dangling at the end was a white rabbit, smiling up at him, eyes in the shape of stars.

It reminded him of the hair clip Junko wore nearly every other day: also a white bunny, but just the head, the inner part of the ears tinted pink, with small beady black eyes. He was sure she would like it; and perhaps during her birthday he could give it to her. He certainly couldn't just give it to her out of the blue, without some holiday or celebration as an excuse. Only couples did that, right? Like a boyfriend or girlfriend...

And she wasn't his girlfriend.

Hajime picked up the charm from the hook, letting it slide into the center of his palm. Still, it would make her smile, she would say thank you when he gave it to her. Even if she didn't think anything more of it than a little gift, he wanted her to have it.

He walked over to the cashier, paying for the charm before returning to the place he had been at before he got distracted, slipping the charm into his pocket. But once again he could feel his eyes straying from their rather simple task. Except this time his gaze didn't stop on any of the store's items, instead falling on a group of girls hanging around the opposite entrance of the store.

Each one was wearing clothes from various fashion magazines, wearing their hair down, some makeup applied to their faces, and wearing a skirt even though spring had just begun. The chill of winter still hung in the air currently, but they left their legs exposed to the unforgiving weather. In all honesty, they were pretty, but just from a glance he knew even a girl like that wouldn't return the look. They weren't up to par with Junko, but then again he didn't think anyone could compete her. Though, he was quite biased when it came to her.

With Junko's recent breakthrough into the modeling business more people were noticing her as well. The sort of people that models like her actually hooked up with.

It was probably - no, it was entirely stupid of him to think he had a chance with her before she was even famous. Now, with her continued ascent into the elite she was slipping even further from him. He hadn't even seen her for five whole months because of how busy she was making that final push into the top magazines, working with actual professionals in the industry.

He should really stop kidding himself, just because they had been friends for so long. It didn't mean she was interested in him the same way he was into her.

This celebrity status she had obtained made it very plain to him. People hardly ever spent their lives with their first love. Why on earth had he thought he might be an exception to that rule?

A mutter sounded on the wind and he blinked, noticing one of the girls pointing in his direction, saying something to her friends.

 _Oh._ Hajime could feel a slight burn in his cheeks. He had been caught.

The corner of his lips twitched up. He hadn't meant to space out like that while looking at them, realizing just how pathetic his whole thought process was. That fact just got pounded into his head even further when he heard their voices drift over to him, and he was sure they were raising their voices on purpose.

"He keeps staring, it's creepy." If he were in an anime there would likely be a sweat drop appearing at the back of his head.

"Is he trying to pick which one of us he wants to ask out?"

"You think so, too?"

"Well, if he does. Would you say yes?"

" _What?_ No way. I have standards and he is so far below them."

Of course, they were snobby and completely full of themselves. Just because someone was pretty didn't mean they were all about rainbows and kittens.

The group was now laughing at the latest comment. "Right, right. He's as plain as they come."

"Besides, were only a few meters away and I can't spot any obvious muscle on his body. He clearly doesn't work out regularly."

"His fashion sense is lacking as well. That's a school shirt, isn't it?"

"No doubt, but I don't recognize the emblem."

"If another minute passes does his staring count as sexual harassment?"

...at this point it's because you keep talking about me.

Their voices trailed off in the next second though, their gazes shifting in usion to something behind him.

As soon as he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders he knew he was screwed. The girls were probably waiting here for their boyfriends, who had likely just heard the way he was being badgered by them. Yeah, he thought as he felt his body being forcibly turned away from the group and to whoever was standing behind him. He was about to be punched in the face by some yakuza wanna-be for 'looking at his gal.'

He was still debating whether he should close his eyes or not; if he should allow himself to look even more incompetent in those girl's eyes when he felt those hands began to run down his arms.

Hajime blinked as finely manicured nails wrapped around his wrists, eyes unable to close as they could only widen, watching as Junko drew even closer, head tilted slightly to the side, her own eyes closed when soft pink lips pressed against his own.

For a second he thought he had passed out from the non-existent punch to his head. And then he heard a loud _click_ , accompanied by a bright flash.

Junko was pulling away in the next second, but he felt those fingers tighten around his left wrist, the other pair falling from his right. " _Sayonara_!" With a shout Junko took off running down the sidewalk and for a moment he stumbled after her, before regaining control of his momentum as she tugged him along.

He could hear a shout from behind him, something that sounded like, "Wait!" Maybe even yelling about how they wanted more shots, that they wanted to pick the best out of the bunch for the headlines. At least, that's what he thought the reporter was shouting about. The people around him had gotten rather rambunctious at the sight as well.

But all their words just fell from his ears as Junko continued to run through the crowded walkway with no obstacle in her chosen path. It probably had something to do with her own shouted words, "Move, please! Emergency! Magazine on ass! Thank you! Have a good day!"

He could still hear the reporter behind them, but Junko had just darted out onto the street when the cautionary light was flashing above. There were a few other pedestrians still making their way across as well, giving a collection of differing glances their way when they passed. This time when he heard a shout it was clear that reporter had gotten stuck in the throng, just as Junko stepped onto the sidewalk, now weaving between the pedestrians and somehow keeping a hold of his wrist.

Hajime simply did his best to keep up, keep his legs moving beneath him while his mind tried to reach his body. It was still lying on the ground across the intersection, as empty as the sky above them.

Junko abruptly moved off the sidewalk, dragging him into an alley to come to a halt, a triumphant grin on her face. Even though they must have lost the reporter ten minutes ago.

Hajime collapsed against the wall, bent over so his hands rested on his knees as he gasped for air. He really should have enlisted in track and field this year so he wouldn't be so winded when Junko dragged him along with her. It just hadn't occurred to him that taking a five month break from these little adventures of hers would leave him so exhausted when it happened again. Especially so suddenly.

"Hey Hajime," Junko spoke in such a way that he had to wonder if that run had effected her at all. Probably not. "You should come with me to a party tonight, we could catch up." Something akin to a laugh slipped past his lips at her choice of words.

He took in another breath to refill his lungs with air, the gears in his mind finally beginning to turn once more. Junko Enoshima had kissed him. She had kissed him, and now... and now-

"Come on. I promise it won't be boring. There'll be a few C and B-list celebrities, even. It's basically a, 'Welcome to the Industry' sort of thing, but it's also one of _those_ parties." Junko's lips briefly curled into a frown as she said this and he knew this was the sort of thing she would skip if she could.

Her words ran on a rampant repeat in his head as he took this information in, along with her invitation to the sort of party most teenagers would dream about. She didn't look particularly happy about it, though. There were probably some VIP passes for fans that could afford it; he was sure her fan-base was expanding with her breakthrough, but he doubted there would be many new fans appearing this soon. Which meant those VIPs would be coming from the old batch. If the new fans were even aware of a party happening tonight in the first place.

She had also mentioned it being one of those parties. Which could only mean the people there would comment if she didn't bring someone with her, whether they were a girl or guy, but of course they would point out the latter first. Probably say something like, the younger generation needing to enjoy life more, that they had more opportunities to make mistakes with the sort of people they associated with. When he appeared at this party and then not the next that's what the tabloids would say, especially after that reporter had snapped that picture.

But he couldn't just let her go by herself, he was familiar with those fans she had at the beginning of her modeling career and those types would surely be trying to take advantage of a party like this.

Hajime glanced at Junko, who was still looking at him with a hopeful smile. He couldn't let her down, even if it meant he might be ridiculed even further by far more people later. Besides, he hadn't had any other plans for tonight, and he would rather keep those creeps away from her. "Yeah," he said standing up to lean against the wall. "I'll go."

"Great!" She gave a little hop, clapping her hands together. "There's still a few hours before it begins, but you can come with me until then." Well, he was suppose to get some things from the store, but he wasn't sure about going back there right this second; and it's not like he needed anything from there immediately.

Hajime just gave a nod of his head before she slipped her fingers around his, once again pulling him along as she navigated the maze of alleys and short-cuts back to the agency's building.

The moment they had entered a stylist had jumped on them, scolding Junko for being late and prattling on about them not having a lot of time left. Without even a glance at Hajime the woman had pulled Junko into a room, inadvertently taking Hajime with her. But when the stylist noticed he was there after 'repairing' Junko's makeup, Junko had just called him her plus one.

And he had been pulled into the tornado the woman was making around the room within seconds. Hajime wasn't entirely sure what was going on; he just knew he was being told off, having a suit and dress shoes thrown at him, being directed behind a changing screen in the room after the woman had barked at an assistant to get him something more suitable for the party. Oh, and he could hear Junko laughing as he was sure he had gone into a state of shock during the whole process.

He had managed to change rather mechanically beyond the screen, but opted to stay behind it to just stay out of the eye of the hurricane and avoid getting pulled in once more.

So Hajime only stuck his head out around the changing screen when Junko said it was time to go, evidently ignoring the woman that seemed to be muttering to herself about how she didn't know how they were going to get to the party on time.

Junko was now wearing a dress as she motioned for him to come out from behind the screen with a single pink-colored nail, lips painted a bright gold. The dress was a deep red, light pink swirls imprinted on the surface, practically fading right into the fabric. The sleeves merely slipped over her shoulders that had been dusted in some gold glitter. The neckline dipping down in a v, showing off a rhondonite pendant that was... more-or-less nestled in her cleavage. The dress stopped halfway down her thigh, the bottom holding a crotchet detailing, making the edges look a bit frayed.

Her strawberry blonde hair had been re-styled as well. It was no longer pulled up into a pair of pig tails, but hanging down, curling around her frame in waves. A single black rose was clipped into her hair, pulling any stray strands away from the left side of her face.

If it weren't for the high black buckle boots she wore she would look like a fairy. Even with them he couldn't deny that they somehow complimented the outfit.

Fashion was something that was lost on him, which is why he had hardly glanced at his own suit, but he figured the assistant had given him something to combat the glow of Junko, perhaps with a dash of that focus color. Which would likely be the tie now that he thought about it.

After another second passed he stepped out from behind the screen, feeling Junko link her arm with his a moment later. He avoided meeting anyone's gaze as she led him down a hallway, going outside to climb into a company car so they could be taken to the location of the party.

According to the time displayed and what the woman had said back at the agency they were a full fifteen minutes late, not that anyone said a word about it when they actually entered the building. He trusted Junko to have timed her arrival in such a way that would be considered both fashionable and realistic, considering the amount of traffic at this hour.

"Hey, Junko! Congratulations on making it big!"

Nearly every guest came up and told her essentially the same thing throughout the night, most not saying much to him, but he figured it was because they didn't recognize him as anyone important.

Of course, eventually someone asked about him. "Who is this with you? A boyfriend?" The woman winked as she said this, making a few heads actually turn in interest.

"This is my friend, Hajime." Junko replied, giving a small tug on his arm when she spoke, not actually answering the lady's last question.

He thought that particular subject would be dropped then, but one man raised their voice as they were sitting near the bar. "Just a friend? I saw the online picture of you two. You can't deny it."

"Hmm." Junko mimicked a pout with her lips, but he could tell she wasn't being serious when she said, "We're good friends."

Her performance made the man laugh out loud, taking the bait as Hajime could feel a few of the men now looking at him with suspicious eyes. It was obvious he didn't belong here, but he was stopping them from saying anything more to Junko than a hello and some simple idle chatter.

He refused to leave her side for even a second as he could see one of those VIPs looking at her in such a way it _should_ be sexual harassment. His lips pulled down into a grimace when that particular man got up from his seat, making his way over to them. He stopped short of Junko by a foot, then leaned in, breath stinking of alcohol, as he directed his words to Hajime, "You sure are a bright one, aren't you? With Junko Enoshima on your arm you could make the front page of any magazine easily. Quite an easy step up in society."

His fingers twitched at his side, just before he felt them connect with the man's face, now curled into a fist. The man fell like a sack of potatoes, arms flying up to cradle his head the moment he touched the floor. "Say that again, you sack of shit," his words seemed to bounce off the walls as the entire room had gone quiet.

A hand settled on his shoulder for the second time that day. "Hajime?" He could hear her voice at his ear as her other hand settled against his left pocket, and for a moment he wasn't focused on the disgusting creature that called itself human in front of him.

Through the fabric he could feel her fingers brush over the top of the pocket, and that little bump there from the charm. He had moved it into the suit's pocket after changing, wanting to make sure he didn't lose it. But it wasn't for now, it was suppose to be for a holiday, possibly even a foreign one.

"What's this?" Junko's fingers dipped into the pocket, pulling the charm out with ease.

He forced his gaze to turn and meet her own eyes. "That's for you," he said, only listening to the increased beating of his heart that sounded in his ears as she looked at the little chibi charm.

"For me?" she repeated, and then her lips curved up into a smile. "That's so nice of you." He could feel a soft burn on his cheeks a moment later, his world expanding from her to include the rest of the room when she simply dropped the charm into her cleavage.

 _Everyone_ was staring at them.

The man on the floor made a sound, as if he was about to say something when Junko's boot fell on the carpet just a centimeter away from his hand. "Come on," she said, arm wrapped around his elbow as she stepped over the man on the floor, heading to the door beyond the crumpled form on the floor.

Hajime followed after her, stepping over the man as well. He could see her manager out of the corner of his eye: sitting at the bar, drinking from a glass with a little umbrella in it, just watching the scene rather than calling security over; just before he stepped over the threshold leading out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ultimate Amiss VII**

His eyes are closed, back pressed to the wall as if he were still asleep. He wants to sleep, especially after his teachers came in days ago and noticed that not only was the grate taken off the window, but it was missing.

They spent a good few hours running around, trying to find it, not once looking up at the vent where he had placed it. Well, clearly the grate wasn't blocking the airflow - not that he was surprised - he had placed it down so someone couldn't see it at a glance. Not that the teachers had thought to look up when they were looking for the grate.

Of course they had asked him after having no luck, but if they couldn't figure out something so simple, so _obvious_ he didn't see why he should help them; and when he hadn't answered them they had spent ten more minutes looking around before leaving. They hadn't come in again, at least when he was around. He was sure one or two of them had looked for the grate while he was in class, but since the grate hadn't shown up on his window again he could only guess that they had failed in their search then to. They hadn't even seemed to notice that he had placed the bolts on the vent. It had to be a dead giveaway when they finally noticed it.

But, he had accepted hours ago that he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. Partially because of those same teachers wandering outside the hallway. Did they think he had hid the grate out there? Oh well...

Izuru kept his eyes squeezed shut even when he heard a shout from beyond the window, coming from outside. A group of students were out there, playing some sort of game. From the mass of voices he had begun to recognize there were students from Junko's class and Ibuki's class wandering around out there.

He had heard from his room that Ibuki was a sophomore while Junko was a freshman, which made him wonder even more how she could manipulate all those people. She wasn't even their senior and they listened to her every word like she had years of wisdom on any and all matters. Ridiculous, but what was even more ridiculous... was what had been bothering him for a solid hour now, Junko.

Without even looking out the window - just listening to her voice as she played with her friends - he was tempted to look outside. He didn't understand it. To be this bothered by her... he had to have known her before. How he didn't even know her - couldn't remember, but he must have, even if she didn't recognize him either.

Which made even less sense. He had talked with her originally to figure out how he knew her, why he recognized her, but if she truly didn't recognize him then the only possibility was that she reminded him of someone else. That he had gone and bothered her that day for no reason. Or rather it would be... If she could just stay out of his mind.

"Over here!"

"Too slow!"

"Run faster! You have legs built to run! Use them!"

"Pass it!"

"I'm trapped!"

"Pass it now!"

"Kick that ball!"

"Come on, don't let the other team get it!"

"Okay, okay!"

" _Ow!_ "

His eyes snap open and Izuru finds himself turning around, pushing himself up to look through the window at the sound of Junko's shout. It only takes him a second to find her on the field, sprawled out on the ground, one hand wrapped around her ankle.

"Ooo. Ooo. Keep that pose!"

"Quit screwing around Teruteru and get out of the way!"

"Mahiru, may I borrow your camera?"

"What? You better be joking or _my_ foot is connecting with your _face_!"

"Oh? That sounds delightful. I could see right up your ski-"

"Can you stand?"

"Hey! Don't ignore me!"

"Yeah," Junko said, reaching up to take the red haired girl's outstretched hand.

"They're ignoring me..."

"We should go to the infirmary to have it checked."

"Okay." Junko got to her feet, leaning slightly on the other girl as they started walking off towards the school, presumably to the infirmary. The other students continued to talk among themselves, but he wasn't listening to them as he watched Junko and Mahiru disappear into the school.

Izuru turned from the window when he could no longer see her, getting up from the bed to head towards the door. He only took a second to listen at the door, making sure no one was in the hallway before stepping out, moving down the hallway to the stairs that would lead to the ground floor.

It took him a minute to get out of the building though, with his teachers actually walking around on the ground floor, he had to wait for an opening to slip out of the door. Once he was outside he simply maneuvered himself away from the vantage point of a window or door where his teachers might see him. Not that it took very long for him to reach the main building.

Izuru stopped from turning down the hall leading to the infirmary when he heard Yosuke's voice from within the room. He waited against the wall to hear him leave the room, footsteps heading down the other end of the hallway. Once Izuru was sure he was gone he stepped around the corner, making a beeline to the infirmary door.

When he entered the room his gaze barely slid away from the door before settling on Junko, who was laying down in one of the beds. For the most part she looked fine, but he could still remember her pained yell from minutes ago. "Are you okay?" the words just slipped from the mouth as he walked further into the room.

Junko looked up towards him, no longer looking beyond the curtain to her right. "Huh?" She seemed to regard him for a moment, not saying a word, but that could easily be attributed to how their last conversation went. "Have you been watching me? I swear I could feel someone watching me this past week."

It was true - to an extent - he had been watching her, but not as often as she made it sound. Mostly he ended up listening to her voice when she was outside with her friends or any other students. Not that it mattered at all right now.

Izuru walked to the chair that was next to her bed, sitting down on it without offering a word to her observation. "Did you get hurt?"

Junko's lips pulled down into a frown as she settled back against a pillow. For a moment he thought she wasn't going to answer his question before she spoke, "I'm fine. The school was obligated to check that my injury wasn't serious. If it was I wouldn't be able to do my job."

Her words were clearly meant to be sarcastic, but if she was making comments like that then she couldn't have gotten hurt too bad. The corner of his lip twitched up, unbidden. "You could be more serious after getting hurt. Even if it's just a scrape it could get infected. Besides, is that how you usually talk to all your seniors?"

Junko's mouth began to open, as if she was going to snap at him, but then her mouth closed. Her expression was unreadable, but it was obvious to him that she had just gotten lost in thought, but he couldn't tell if it was from his words or something else.

A girl stepped out from behind the screen then, filling the silence with a more accurate answer to his earlier question, along with an explanation for just why Yosuke had left so quickly, "Apparently there was some emergency that Yosuke needed to go see to. The school nurse is sick today, so I was just grabbing a painkiller and some ice for Junko. She only sprained her ankle, so she'll be fine. If it were worse I would have gone and pulled Mikan out of her class."

Hm. That wasn't too bad then. She would just have to not strain it too much at work and make sure to keep it rested so it would heal. With some luck it would only take a few days, perhaps a week or two before it was better.

"Who are you?" Mahiru asked after setting the ice on Junko's swollen ankle and handing her a little pill. "I haven't seen you around school before."

Before he could answer - or rather do his best to avoid the question, strictly speaking no one was suppose to know about him; it was the main reason why he stayed in the lower levels of that other building - one of his teachers stepped into the infirmary with a rather panicked look on their face. "Izuru," they snapped instantly upon seeing him and he instantly straightened in his chair, turning his gaze onto them. "What are you doing out here? You need to come back with me-"

"Why would he need to do that?" Mahiru interrupted, glaring openly at the teacher. He actually wasn't sure for a moment if she didn't like teachers in general or if she was just using that tone of voice because of how the teacher had spoken just now. "He came to see a friend while they were injured. Even if it's for some class he shouldn't have to leave right away."

The teacher's gaze seemed to snap to Mahiru, then slid to Junko who remained quiet in the bed, before moving back to the redhead. "He has a rare medical condition. It's my job to monitor him to make sure the medicine is keeping the symptoms at bay." The explanation sounded rather scripted to his ears, but that's probably because it was. "Come on, Izuru." They motioned for him with one hand, instead of stepping further into the room towards him.

Were they actually intimidated by Mahiru? That was... almost funny.

Izuru got up after another second had passed, not leaving any parting words in case the teacher got it further in their head to go hunting for either of these girls if - when - he went missing from his room again. "Of course, professor."

Once they were out of the infirmary and in the hall the teacher glanced at him. "Why did you put it in the vent?" Ah, the grate.

"Why did it take you a week to find it?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Ultimate Amiss VIII**

He clicks on another news article from the website. Bold letters at the top with some sort of sparkle animation announced that it was called, One Stop Gyaru.

Hajime settles back in his chair though after just briefly scanning the article. It's the sixth one he's found just today that makes no mention of him. Even though it had barely been two weeks since the photo of kissing him had begun circulating around the web it had been forgotten rather quickly.

Okay, that wasn't quite right. The photo itself hadn't been forgotten, just him. It's like he wasn't even in it, which ordinarily he would be happy about, but... there had been no follow up to it. He thought - maybe - if Junko had kissed him and with the image having gone viral in a sense she would have to comment on it sooner or later, but she hadn't. There was no answer to the question of 'who the lucky guy was.' Junko never said a word after it had gotten out and no one asked her in any of her recent interviews either.

It didn't seem normal to him. Didn't the media usually jump on something like this? Hosts from talk shows would tease an ordinary person if _they_ just went up and essentially 'kissed some random guy.' Right? Or was he thinking about it too much? He had to be. He hoped he was.

Shouldn't Junko have mentioned him by now if...

Hajime let out a deep sigh, clicking away from the article to bring up another. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He wanted to believe that when someone kissed you they liked you, but it's not like he had any experience with this sort of thing. But that _was_ how it usually went, right? Or was he just talking to himself in circles at this point?

The latest article that now took up most of his computer screen announced - rather loudly - not to lose hope if you're not the most handsome person on earth. That even models - Junko - and other celebrities did date people that were average - lies. And one of the pictures to 'illustrate this oh so mesmerizing fact' was of him and Junko.

He stared at it for a second, wondering why he couldn't just reach into the computer and tear up the evidence of their kiss to shreds.

It's not like it had meant anything. If it had she would have said something, either to him or the media, but he hadn't heard from her since going to that party. Hell, he had hardly even heard anything about the party on the news.

The fact that he had been there certainly wasn't mentioned. It would have given the media plenty of more fuel to go at Junko for kissing 'some random guy on the street.' But it was even more silent than that photo of him and her. There wasn't a single peep about his outburst at the party when that man had made that comment - insinuating that he was only with Junko to move up in the world, to use her and then throw her away like a used tissue or some other filthy thing. The fact that he had hit him - which surely left a bruise if nothing else - wasn't in a single article that attempted to cover the events of the party.

Attempted because it didn't even get an article, just a paragraph about the new rising star, Junko. Always just saying that it was to celebrate her big sudden break into the industry; then nothing. That was it.

The only evidence he could find that he hadn't just dreamed that night was the news concerning that man, which was downplayed so much hardly anyone had noted it.

Hajime closed out of two of the tabs, bringing up the third one instead. His eyes scanned over this article for a couple minutes before he gave up trying to find any news about him in it as well. It appeared he had become the ghost of the ether webs. Forgotten from one picture of a new model sensation and never even spoken of in another article.

Not that he cared. Not exactly, anyway. It just seemed so strange to him. Perhaps Junko was just trying to keep him out of the mess of the media? Could that be it? Or was he stretching reality a bit too far? There's no way she could keep them from asking whatever questions they wanted. Well, maybe her manager had seen the photo and wanted to shove it as quickly into the past as possible as Junko rose to the top. It was the only thing that made sense to him anyway, and it would fit with the bitch of a manager as well. She was only concerned about money and if she thought the exposure of that photo with Junko and Hajime would hurt Junko's popularity or anything of course she would want to forget about it as quickly as possible. Which meant making it be forgotten as quickly as possible.

Managers were the ones that told tv producers and such what questions they weren't allowed to ask, right? Yes, maybe Junko had just- No. He had to stop this; getting his hopes up for something he couldn't be sure of what just stupid.

He knew it was, but he couldn't stop himself from reaching toward that sparkly light of hope. Maybe he should just cut off his metaphorical dream hand while he was at it.

Hajime resisted the urge to rest his head on the keyboard and scrolled down the article, reading it from top to bottom once again.

The man from that party had not only been banned from the studio Junko worked at, but has his VIP card taken away as well, and then there was the restraining order. Not for the whole studio, but Junko herself. The man had to stay approximately five hundred feet away from Junko at all times. Though, it probably allowed for some adjustments considering it wasn't always possible to be exact about those sort of things.

So it didn't really leave anything to the imagination. There was no need for him to keep grasping at straws here. He had clearly been used to get this man away from Junko, so all of this could go into motion.

The fact that the reasons for all of this were glossed over with rumors was just more evidence of that fact. It's not like security had jumped to the defense of the man, he wasn't even sure security had even been in the room, or if there were even any surveillance cameras in there in the first place. It seemed highly unlikely with everything he had found about that night so far, all the things he was remembering about it.

Junko's manager certainly hadn't been concerned at the time, just drinking her fruity alcoholic drink with a colorful little umbrella sitting on the edge of the glass. She hadn't seemed to give a care in the world about it actually. Even after witnessing that he had been the first one to throw a punch - though, he guessed one could say he had been goaded into it.

That lady could have called security on him, but she hadn't. Instead letting him and Junko go and walk out of the room. It had only been after he was in some back hall with Junko - the door closed behind him - that he had heard even a hint of security from within the room. Though, he hadn't heard much more than the man cursing at them, telling them to go after 'the kid that did this to my face.'

None of it was normal. The typical thing one expected to happen after such events.

Had the manager requested that Junko bring Hajime to the party for that sole purpose? Create a scene with that specific man so they could have an excuse to do all of that too him? Call it sexual harassment directed at Junko? It would certainly stop him from developing another headache if that was the correct answer.

The more he thought about it the more likely it seemed. He had known that manager for years - Junko had never switched the studio she worked for in her quest - so it stood to reason that she would know he would take any harassment to Junko personally and possibly even dish out some punishment for it.

Just like he had that night.

The possibility only grew with the man being one of Junko's older fans, that would make weird requests of her when it came to photo shoots. Essentially trying to turn the shoot into some perverted fantasy with Junko being the star; as if she was involved in the porn industry instead of the modeling industry.

"Fucking hell."

He wanted to hit that man again for any of her fans that had ever made those kind of requests with a wad of cash in their hands to tip the table in their favor. Not that Junko had ever accepted it, she always flipped the table back in their face. In fact, it's part of why her and the manager use to get into fights. It was only majorily resolved when Junko agreed to take a lower pay check so that the studio got more of the money from her shoots, in other words her manager.

Had there even been a reporter in that room? Probably not if she had really orchestrated the whole thing; and it certainly explained why everyone attending had been asked to hand over their phones and other photography equipment to security before entering the room.

But then what about that kiss? It had nothing to do with the party and what had happened there, right? It couldn't have been part of the plan. Junko could have easily asked him to go to the party with her in the manager had planned it all out. There was no reason for her to _kiss_ him just so he would go. Surely Junko knew that? All she would have had to do was tell him what they had planned for the disgusting creep and he would have gone with it. Not a single complaint would have come from his mouth.

He found himself sighing aloud again. Maybe-

Three quick rasps sounded on the glass to his left and he nearly crashed to the floor from the sudden noise. Hajime steadied the chair beneath him, thankful that it hadn't tipped over when he jerked in his seat like that, it definitely would have sent him to the floor then, likely with the chair landing on top of him to.

Hajime stood up from the chair, sliding it into place and clicking the power to the monitor off before turning to the sliding glass door. He pulled the curtain aside, coming almost face-to-face with Junko who stood on the other side of the door in his backyard.

She gave him a little smile, raising a hand to wave at him behind the glass before jumping back from the door, clearly indicating that he should come outside.

It only took him a moment to unlock the door and slide it open, stepping outside to slide the door closed behind him. Junko had situated herself on top of the outdoor table, one leg raised with just the heel of her foot on the stone.

Well, this was rather convenient. He could just ask her about everything now.

Hajime was almost too aware of that little glimmer of hope again, back in the recesses of his mind. He took a few steps away from the door, closer to her before letting the questions spill from his lips, "Was I just at that party to get rid of your creepy fan? I know he's been banned from the studio, stripped of his VIP status, and you put a restraining order against him. Your manager planned it, didn't she?"

The smile on her face slips for a second. "You're being very serious today. I just came to see how you were doing." He's about to demand that she answers him when Junko continues, "But yes, that was the plan." She rests her cheek against her knee. "I managed to get rid of the other troublemakers originally in the VIP program, but no matter what I did that one wouldn't budge on the issue. He kept harassing me and acting as if it was still the old days when I wasn't well known. It's like the old geezer wanted to strike me down after all my hard work. You know what the media does to people when they have suggestive photos like that. That's why I never did any. I knew I would make it eventually and didn't want anyone black mailing me."

Hajime only gave a small nod after her explanation. It made a lot more sense now that he was able to confirm his theory. Heck, he was glad he had been able to help her in that regard even, but... "You could have told me. You didn't-" he stopped himself just in time from saying the words, _need to string me along, almost like it was a date_.

Junko didn't seem to notice the exact train of thought he had jumped off right then, though. "My manager suggested that I didn't say anything about it. For authenticity sake, so none of it looked practiced. Even without knowing though, you did a good job." Junko grinned at him, but he was still caught on the phrasing of her words.

Wait. "You... you came up with that plan?"

"Yeah." Junko raised her head from her knee as she held his gaze. "Sorry about not telling you, but it was to get rid of that man. I made sure there was no way you could get in trouble for it. Though, I hadn't actually expected you to punch the guy either." She gave a little laugh, clearly pleased with that particular outcome.

Hajime didn't say anything, not entirely sure what he should say. He supposed it was fine. It didn't matter who had planned it and he could understand not telling him. So he wasn't actively looking for their target and glaring at the man for the duration of the party or anything like that.

Honestly, the only thing that was bothering him now is that she still wasn't bringing _it_ up. They were alone in his backyard - presumably safe from any flashing photography - and she hadn't even mentioned the kiss. It hadn't come up in her plan, but that didn't make him feel any better.

"I found this cafe that the media aren't allowed in. There's a backdoor and everything, we could go to actually catch up this time. No extermination of VIPs planned, promise." He could hear Junko talking, getting down from the table, but... none of it seemed real to him. "What do you say-"

The moment he felt an arm begin to loop from his he pulled away, fast and hard, not even looking at her.

So it really hadn't meant anything to her. He kept thinking it was a possibility, but now he was beginning to wonder if it was part of another plan of hers. To make it to the top even faster, it's certainly the effect that picture had had over the last week when he was no longer mentioned. She was just getting even more popular. He didn't want to believe she would do something like that - to him of all people - but, now it kept buzzing around his mind, bugging him.

How could she talk about going anywhere with him? In the sort of venue you expected to find a couple, but be completely flippant about it? Why did he bother even entertaining the idea that she had kissed him because she liked him?

"Hajime?"

He pushes the apology down his throat at hearing her tone of voice. It's not like he had pulled away hard enough to hurt her, it was far more likely he had just surprised her then. Usually he didn't mind it when she grabbed his arm, elbow, hand... but if none of it meant a damn thing to her; what was the point? "Could you... just leave me alone for a bit?"

"Hm? What's wrong, Hajime?" He can hear her feet tapping against the stone and he turns his head away when she tries to walk into his line of vision. It's just impossible for him right now, he simply can't look at her knowing he has been waiting all this time for her to notice his feelings for her and she brushes it off so easily.

That she would do something like that and not even give an explanation for it. What else is he suppose to think if she won't tell him why she did it? Why did he go along with her every whim?

"You're acting like a spoiled child." He wants to point out that he _is_ a spoiled child. If just to throw some of his own frustration back at her, but he holds his tongue. Even if she doesn't like him, he still doesn't want to hurt _her_. "You could tell me what's bothering you instead of giving me the silent treatment."

He remained silent. How was he suppose to bring it up? Preferably without revealing his feelings for her, though he felt like they had been obvious for awhile now. Even if he rarely acted on them. He hadn't gone out with anyone in all the years he had known Junko - which was most of his life and completely irrelevant in those earlier years.

"Is it about what happened in front of that shop?"

He blinked. Was she actually talking about what he thought? Hajime raised his gaze to see Junko had sat back on the table and was looking back at him now.

"I saw those girls talking about you, acting all high and mighty with their layers of makeup. It was a bit hard to miss with how loud they were yabbering on."

He glanced away for a moment, not particularly wanting to remember what they had said; that it had all started just because he had spaced out while looking at them. Was she insinuating that she wouldn't have kissed him that day if that wasn't happening when she showed up?

Junko let out a huff, drawing his gaze back to her. "Those sort of people are so annoying. I just thought I would shut them up and that it was the fastest way to get you out of there. I was already running late to the studio to get ready for the party. It was luck that I even found you there."

Of course it was. He _really_ needed to stop getting his hope up when it came to her. She didn't see him in the same light he saw her. She never would. Everything she had just said was proof of that.

Junko looked like she was about to say something else - likely about the cafe, or something else he didn't want to hear from her. He had gotten the message loud and clear, even if she wasn't aware how it was effecting him. Hajime turned away from her with a muttered, "Just leave." Before he reached for the door, sliding it open to close behind him once again, not even waiting to hear or see her response to his words. If she even had one.

He locked the door behind him, pulling the curtain back over the glass as he walked into his house. Junko could just get out of the backyard the same way she had gotten in - likely hopping over the wall. He kept walking until he was in his room, not bothering to close the door before he flopped onto his stomach, staring at the fabric of his sheets for a moment before raising his gaze to the wall.

A photo from some years back hung there. It was of Junko, when she wasn't recognized by the majority of the public yet, when she was still struggling to make it. He had bought it at auction the studio had been holding as a way to support her, seeing as half the money spent would go directly to Junko, the other half to the studio.

He cursed softly under his breath, grabbing a nearby pillow to throw over his head, keeping it in place with his hands so he didn't have to look at her. She only saw him as a friend after all. It's not like she worried about him the same way he worried about her. He wanted to keep being with her, but he had also wanted to be by her side. Not just some person she could run to when she was in trouble, but actually be there for her; and for her to _want_ him to be there.

"Ah." A strangled cry fell from his lips. How stupid could he possibly be? She was never going to love him. Hajime didn't bother to keep the next scream in his throat, continuing to scream into the sheets until his throat felt raw, his jaw aching; until he couldn't scream anymore. Until all he could feel was the burning in his eyes, the moisture staining his cheeks as he cried.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ultimate Amiss IX**

 **Paying attention?**

"Now if you look at this diagram of the brain you can see the prefrontal cortex-"

It was just like flicking a switch, but without the capability to flick the function back on at one's own leisure. Izuru found himself tuning out from his teacher's lecture at regular intervals, and it lasted longer each time; until some sudden noise brought him out of it.

There just wasn't anything he could do about it. His mind kept drifting back to the source of all his recent troubles: Junko. He really wished he had never seen her through the window in his room, that he had never touched the grate so he didn't have to be dealing with this now. Everything would be _so_ much better if he hadn't recognized her - thought he had.

He didn't know what to think anymore on that front. After yesterday he was just more confused than ever; something he did not make a habit of being. If someone _just_ recognized a person they should not be this effected by it. There had to be more to it if he considered what had happened yesterday.

With her getting hurt and all. He didn't even know her and had managed - somehow - to slip past all the teachers and security in his building, just to go to the infirmary to see her. Something that had just required luck, otherwise he couldn't make sense how he manged to get out with next to no planning. It had taken him a week to get out before and made his teachers go into a blind panic for a number of hours before he had returned. That time he had given some bullshit excuse of getting fresh air that no one had believed, but there had been no point to coming up with something more plausible - it simply didn't exist - when they wouldn't have believed that either.

It was easier for them to believe that he was testing their boundaries, like some child to see just how much he could get away with. In a way he was, but for the most part they encouraged that behavior; so it was completely their fault for panicking after knowing exactly what they were doing, what they wanted from him.

Now though, he would be more than lucky if he could get out of the building again; evidently they were fed up with him leaving the building when he shouldn't be. Even if he did manage it they would go through the school's system to see either where Junko or Mahiru was since one of his teachers had caught him with them at the infirmary. What Mahiru had said about him checking up on a friend wasn't going to help matters either. They would be much faster at finding him if they knew about his focus on Junko.

A completely irrational focus at that, one that he had thought wouldn't actually be distracting him during his lessons. He had just wanted to sate his curiosity of who she was - how the _fucking hell_ \- he knew her. Which should have been resolved after he had gone up to the roof, but instead it just kept growing, and that was not including everything else going on now that he was blaming on that woman.

Those actions had been so stupid - ridiculous. He shouldn't have left his room, but he had just _moved_ , he hadn't had a single rational thought. Kind of like when he had found himself speaking to her while sitting on that chair. Usually he kept his words measured, he thought about what he was going to say, nothing just came out before being filtered. It was like someone else had hijacked his body in those minutes. A feeling he was not familiar with; one he never wanted to experience again.

He was sure it had all been caused because of _her_ , because Junko had gotten injured. If that hadn't happened he wouldn't be... disturbed? It was hard to tell. He should probably look for the exact description later and see if everything matched up with what he was experiencing.

Why had he gone to her so quickly? Just to check on an injury that happened to be so minor; a complete waste of time. He even recalled being _glad_ it wasn't anything serious. At the very least his little excursion to the infirmary - her sprained ankle - led him to the conclusion that she didn't simply remind him of someone else. It was her that was causing him to lose out on his current lecture, even if he could just read all the information later.

Perhaps if he just got down to _how_ he knew her his thoughts would clear up again. He was now leaning toward the theory that she had done something to him, but again he was second-guessing it every other second. If she had done something horrible to him he shouldn't care if she got injured. Hell, he should have been happy that her ankle was sprained, that she would be limited in the work - and for how long she could do her job - she did.

There was no reason to keep running around with these theories, though. He needed to confront her, get straight to the problem.

Izuru had to force himself to continue staring at the screen in front of him, instead of looking out into the hall. Now, he just needed to hack into security and edit the film from the new cameras positioned in the staircases that had supposedly been installed for safety, to check if anyone was trapped in the building during a fire or _something_ ; that was the official reason for those cameras being there. The school was not going to admit to keeping him on his own floor as the reasoning for them being positioned there.

He had heard from the teachers that they were implementing the same system for the other lower stories of various school buildings, so nothing about it would seem strange. There was even a school safety announcement for it.

It was going to take some time to get around the new security, and that wasn't counting the fact that he couldn't move as quickly as he had the first time. He would need to shake off their suspicion that he was going to disappear again, for some inexplicable reason.

The first step of which would actually be paying attention to his lessons. Which was actually going to take some effort on his part; now all he needed to do was clear his mind...

There was something pressing against his neck, at first it felt like a speck of dirt, until the cool metal slid down, to press against the center of his jugular. Izuru's eyes snapped open, taking a moment to adjust to the near darkness that formed a thick blanket in the room. The only light was coming from his window, which once again had it's grate; this time untouched and with further measures taken to secure it to the wall.

So he could see the figure hovering over him easily enough. The body's shape told him it was a girl, who had a leg braced on either side of his stomach, raised up just enough so she wasn't actually on top of him. So the only thing that was touching him was the blade in her hand. The hair was short... familiar, _oh_. She had been the other girl on that roof, the one who's name he had never gotten.

The metal flashed in the moon's light when she nudged the blade against the hollow of his throat. "Who are you?" the girl asked.

Hm, that was impolite. "Izuru."

The girl's eyes narrowed, blue eyes flashing in the darkness. "I already know that. What's your full name? Who are you?" she repeated, pressing the blade against his neck once again.

He frowned. She was persistent, but considering no one was in the room yet and asking who the hell she was and requesting that she get off him then she must have slipped past security. He was going to have to tell her his name, especially if this threat with the blade was indeed real. The skin around the nick she had given him was already warm from the few droplets of blood there. "Izuru Kamukura. Who are you suppose to be?"

"Mukuro." He noted in the back of his mind that she only gave her first name. Well, she was the one with the knife. Her hand was steady, keeping the blade still against his skin, so this couldn't be her first time doing something like this.

Another Ultimate then... not that she had looked like a Reserve Course student before, but she had seemed to be following Junko's orders then; acting as a guard in the stairwell.

"How do you know Junko?" Did Junko put her up to this, then? It seemed a bit... extreme. No, Mukuro had to be acting on her own.

Besides, if her questions were going to be this simple he didn't see a reason not to answer. There was only one con to doing so. "I already explained that on the roof. You heard everything, I'm sure." Mukuro didn't say a word, just pressed the blade forward to nick at his skin again. So, she wanted a more detailed account, huh? Izuru sighed softly. This was bothersome. "I thought I had recognized her when I spotted her down in the courtyard."

"Through that window over there, correct?" Mukuro tilted her head to indicate the grate covered window and he gave a nod of his own head.

"Yes. I went up there to ask her if she remembered seeing me. I thought it would jog my memory, that's all." There really wasn't anything to add there. He wasn't sure what she expected. For his story to change in just a few weeks?

"How do you _think_ you know Junko?"

"That would be a purely theoretical answer."

Mukuro looked just as unhappy with the answer as he had been with her question. "Are you really this ignorant?"

"Not usually," he admitted. "That's why I tried to talk to Junko in the first place." He ignored the sting on his neck when her blade pressed a little deeper than the other times when she leaned forward. Had that pissed her off?

"She already told you her answer," Mukuro said, eyes narrowed as she looked down at him, shifting her grip on the blade. That would be a yes. Perhaps he should stop trying to irritate her, but he could be doing much more important things right now if he was going to be awake at this hour.

"Which I still find hard to believe, as previously stated. I could repeat the whole conversation from the roof if you like. As a demonstration of how good my memory usually is."

"That's not necessary. She said she doesn't know you, so you're going to back _off_." Mukuro pushed forward just enough to draw the blade against a major artery. Not that he had needed her to demonstrate what would happen if he didn't. He had gotten that message loud and clear the moment she woke him up.

"I'm not doing that until she answers my questions truthfully."

Her lips pulled back into a scowl. "Are you insinuating that my sister lied to you?"

Sister? He couldn't see any similarities, maybe the eye color, but the shade of blue was different; and Junko had practically told him herself that she wore contacts. Perhaps they were half-sisters, then? "I'm insinuating that your sister is ignorant to who I am. If she truly doesn't know me, then all I require is the evidence."

"She doesn't have it. So stop with your games, and stop watching her. Junko needs her rest more than ever, she doesn't need some asshole keeping her up at night because they're convinced they've seen her before, making her second-guess herself and looking through old photos when she should be sleeping-"

 _"What?"_


	10. Chapter 10

**Ultimate Amiss X**

 **This empty space needs something. So here we go: "Put my heart inside you, oh what could I do." I will not be owning any of these lyrics. This is your disclaimer.**

 **Also, I think this is the first time I've updated a story this fast, this regularly. Yay! Enjoy my fast track!**

His gaze strays to the phone, fingers twitching along the fabric of the throw-pillow. He should call her, after what happened in the backyard he should at least apologize for how he had acted.

The thought kept slipping through his mind - even more so these past few days - but, Hajime couldn't find it in him to pick up the phone and dial her number. Even if she didn't answer because she was at a shoot, interview, or whatever for the day he would still hear her voice when he was asked to leave a message. He wasn't sure if he could do that just yet, not after what had happened nearly a month ago.

Perhaps if he had gone out on a date with a girl before he would be able to just push through this. Then again... he would have needed to feel something for them, like he had - _did_ \- for Junko, to not be so effected when it happened again. A simple date with someone he had no feelings for wouldn't have prepared him for how it felt when his fears were brought out of the shadows and into the light.

He still wasn't sure why he had thought he could be with her. Whenever she had showed up at his school everyone would stare at them, clearly wondering the same thing he continued to wonder back then. Why someone like Junko spent any time with him, someone that was already plain without her standing beside him to make it even more obvious.

Of course at the time he had toyed with the thought that she liked him, that she didn't just stay with him because they had been friends since they were children. Plenty of people moved on with their lives without their childhood friends, even the people met in high school weren't guaranteed to be in one's life for even months after graduation.

Why did he think he was special? The exception to all the unwritten rules of society?

Had she found someone within the month that she liked that was involved in the tough-break industry she loved so much? His lip twitched at the sudden turn of his thoughts. That _really_ wasn't something he wanted to think about. What if he jinxed himself just by thinking that-

No. Hajime shook his head, hard. It's not like he could jinx himself when she didn't like him back. If she did she might have called herself... No, that was also wrong. It didn't take glancing at the gyaru sites to know she was busy. She likely didn't even have time to spare him a thought with how active everything had been recently.

The news about her was filling with new subjects each day, an anticipated shoot or otherwise; her new fans couldn't seem to be sated. How many magazines wanted her on the cover to reap in the sales it would bring? Too many to count out on his hands; even if he included his toes it likely wouldn't be enough.

Busy probably didn't even begin to describe her schedule. Her manager would certainly make sure every time slot was filled, without making Junko's fans concerned with just how much work she was coming out with at such a quick pace. Since she was famous now people might actually start to get concerned if her hours didn't reflect the usual healthy outlook people liked to paint over the modeling industry. Junko certainly didn't want to leave her studio and neither would her manager with how well things were going. They wouldn't want to chance anyone pointing a finger at the company if Junko didn't remain bubbly on the talk shows.

Not that he would know anything about that. He had avoided such networks when he was at home; he just knew of them because of what people said in his classes. Somehow none of them had commented on the photo from a month ago, but he figured since it had been buried so quickly after she made her big break that they simply hadn't found it. If they had he definitely would have gotten some peculiar looks - at the very least, that is.

It was probably best that-

A _ring_ echoed throughout the house, bouncing off the walls and up the stairs. Hajime shifted on the couch, glancing down the hall that led to the entry way. He waited ten seconds until the door bell sounded again before he even considered sitting up, but he still didn't stand.

It's not like his parents were home, hosting a dinner party while he used the excuse that his stomach was queasy so he could go up to his room and avoid the people on the ground floor. Occasionally they went to the second floor - especially if his parents had procured some new painting - not that it would matter. He could easily walk to any room on the third floor without worrying about running into the guests. It might as well have been a mini house up there, including a fully furnished kitchen, gaming room, whatever a teenager could dream up really. There was even a staircase that led down to the theater in the basement. Not a direct route, of course, but more hidden. In fact, the 'steps' were like the kind one found in a jungle gym; an adult could certainly use it, just with some effort and likely complaining about a sore back later.

The door bell rang for a third time and with a sigh Hajime got up, walking barefoot on the oak floorboards to reach the front door. He glanced through the peep hole, frowning when he didn't recognize the person; but when they went to ring the bell again he yanked open the door.

"What do you want?"

The man seemed to nearly jump when the door opened so quickly and without warning, but then composed themselves afterward. "You're a friend of Junko's aren't you?" For a moment he processed those words, feeling his lips tug down into a frown a second later. How did a reporter find his house? When he remained silent the man continued as if he had answered in the affirmative. "Of course you are."

He had to be referring to that photo. Hajime found himself wondering if this was the same reporter from that day, but he hadn't gotten a good look at them to know for sure. Besides, he wasn't holding a camera, just a recording device. "If I am? What are you doing at my house?"

"I'm from-" Hajime tuned out the website, he recognized it as a gyaru news site, a small one at that. Which explained why the reporter was here, to get a scoop of the untold story or something of that regard. So they would have exclusive content about Junko and get more traffic to the site. "-I was wondering how long you had known Junko. I wanted to ask you a few questions about her."

This was going to be a pain. He should have let the door bell ring twenty times, if not more before the reporter had gotten the message. "Why?"

The reporter actually seemed happy with his question, even though he hadn't answered either one directed at him. "Well, if you knew her then maybe you would know what was going on with her recently. Her fans really want to know. I mean, I would think it was serious enough for her friends to know about. For the last few days she seems a bit distracted. Everyone's just concerned."

"Right. _You're_ concerned." You just want a story that makes your site popular with her fans. Hajime was tempted to just shut the door in the man's face, but he hadn't paying attention to the news concerning Junko for a whole month; and if the man wasn't just bullshitting in an attempt to get a story... "How do you know she's distracted by anything?"

"Well, she sort-of mentioned it in passing in her latest interview. They asked if she was feeling okay, if the company was working her too hard, but she denied that, saying it had nothing to do with the company. It implied that something else was going on in her life besides work, and a friend would know about those details." The reporter gave him a look that suggested he was waiting for an answer once more. Likely a real one this time.

Not that he would be able to answer; he didn't know what was going on with her that recently. Though... usually he would have called her by now even after everything that had happened between them recently. He was just using all his self control not to. But... that would be too convenient, wouldn't it? Of course, he would want to think it was because of that that she would be acting a little odd. That she was still expecting him to call even after he had brushed her off like that, telling her to leave him alone - which she had done; though he was sure that partly had to do with work. He would like to believe she would have showed up again if that weren't the case.

The reporter cleared his throat and Hajime scowled at him, making it clear that he wasn't going to be answering that particular line of questioning. Not that he would answer whatever else the reporter managed to come up with.

"It's fine if you don't know. But, I do have a source that mentions seeing you at her party a month back."

His blood runs cold at the man's words. How the _hell_ did he know about that? Who- No, never mind. The bastard could be bluffing to try and get a reaction out of him, so he had something more exciting in the article. Hajime kept his face blank, refusing to stick his hands in his pockets and draw attention to his hands that he had to stop from shaking.

Whether someone had told him about what else they saw or not he couldn't let him hear about what had gone on in that party. It could easily bring the police down on the company for fabricating a scene and using it to their advantage. The whole incident that had been hidden so well from the media could blow up in her face. Even if her manager got blamed for it all... He couldn't let that happen to her. Not after everything she went through to get where she was; like having to deal with that disgusting man in the first place.

"You mind showing me a photograph that has the exact date and time from a month back? She probably had a dozen parties that I didn't attend." The reporter blinked at him, looking about to ask another question so Hajime cut him off. "I don't know who your source is but they're clearly confused. Even if I did know Junko I wouldn't know her well enough to answer any of your questions."

"Really?" Hajime nearly frowned when the reporter's eyes sparked with a small flame. "Then how do you explain her kissing you? Are you saying that Junko Enoshima just goes up to random people on the street? Or that the company loaned her to you-"

Now he wished he had put his hands - fists - into his pockets. The temptation to hit the guy in the temple was steadily growing with every damn word that came out of the reporter's mouth. "I'm giving you ten seconds to get off my property and then I'm calling the cops over to deal with you."

"I'm sure the cops would be interested to know that a teenager such as yourself is using their families' money to buy an expensive whore-"

"Five more seconds and then I'm going to deal with you myself." Hajime snapped, taking the first step down towards the reporter who had begun to back up a little while ago. "Who let you in anyway? This is a gated community. Get the _fuck_ out." He reached forward as he spoke, yanking the voice recorder from the reporter's hand to throw down onto the driveway; he would pick it up again later to put it down the trash disposal in the sink.

"I have another recorder anyway that's been playing for our whole conversation, you can have that one-" His fist struck him in the temple, sending the man stumbling back, but he didn't fall like the last asshole. "This is all just evidence that Junko has something in her past to hide. You wouldn't be so worried and intent on keeping me quiet otherwise-"

"Worried?" Hajime actually stopped advancing on the man, partially because he could see security coming up the road; one of the neighbors must have seen what was going on and called for them. "You should be worrying about yourself instead of trying to come up with dirt on celebrities to make a living."

"So Junko was involved in-"

"You're about to be involved with an empty ditch when Fuyuhiko gets word about your activities." Hajime took a stab in the dark for something that would actually frighten the man. The mention of the heir of the Kuzuryuu Clan seemed to do the trick as the reporter just stared at him, mouth moving silently, perhaps actually comprehending the suggestion behind the words or not... This reporter didn't seem particularly smart. "If I were you my first order of business would be getting rid of your supposed 'evidence' or do you not know who those people work for?" He jabbed a finger in the direction of security - now getting out of the car, coming over to see what was going on.

The man looked frightened enough to have bought the bluff though. He could only hope the idiot actually got rid of the other recorder - if he really had one - as one member of security _did_ work for the yakuza and would use those unorthodox methods against trespassers.

"Get him out of the community and see to it that he doesn't get in again." Hajime snapped when security got close enough to hear them. "You don't get paid to let stupid fucks like him in to harass everyone living here."

He turned away, not waiting to listen to whatever they might say to him, walking back up the steps of his house to close the door behind him and lock it. Hajime walked back into the living room to grab the phone, forcing himself not to jab the numbers before holding the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to go through; hopefully.

"Hello?" He let out a sigh of relief when Junko's voice sounded on the other line.

"Hey, are you okay?" He hadn't forgotten what the reporter had said about her acting a little different on the talk shows. It could be more bullshit or actually a topic of discussion in the gyaru forums. He wouldn't know until he checked, but he didn't have the time right now. "I saw the chatter on the forums. If anything's bothering you, you can always tell me."

"Hajime?" Junko's voice faded off for a moment, clearly talking to someone else in the vicinity. "This isn't really a good time to talk." He could hear multiple people talking in the background when she was focused back on the phone. "I'm expecting a call and- _what? yes, yes I know_. Sorry, could I get back to you later?"

He could feel his shoulders lower, as if the gravity in the room had tripled in force. Hajime sunk into the chair next to the phone's base. She didn't _sound_ bothered, she just sounded busy, something he had expected. One of the reasons he hadn't wanted to call, but... "Yeah, sure. Whenever you get the time," his voice came out a little scratchy - awkward - but he could just chalk it up to yelling at the reporter if she happened to ask about it, today or tomorrow. Who knew how long it would actually take for her to get back to him?

Especially if something actually was bothering her and he didn't know about it, if he was even involved in some way, or not. He really wouldn't know, he should, but he didn't. He was suppose to be there for her and... " _Mhm. Yes, the one on the right. Thanks._ Hajime? I'm going to have to let you go now, but if you're-"

"Yeah," he repeated as he stared across the room. "See you in another month or five, whatever."

The line was silent for a few seconds and he pulled the phone away, so Junko's voice was a little muffled when it came through the speaker again, "W-wait, Hajime-" He set the phone down onto the base, ending the call.

Hajime sat back against the chair, briefly wondering why he had bothered calling. It's not like he couldn't have foreseen this happening. He knew she was busy, would remain like this for years. She didn't have time for him anymore, to indulge his own fantasy. The idea that he could remain in her life no matter what happened.

Still... if he could, that would be preferable. The problem was _how_. No immediate solution was coming to mind and she might as well be getting swept away on the currents of the industry, further and further away from him. Was there even a way to catch up to her? She would keep climbing up and he would be left behind.

After everything she wasn't going to stop and wait for him. And she shouldn't, no doubt there was someone in the industry that would eventually catch her eye. Though, he didn't particularly like that idea... Of someone else besides him being with her, supporting her on her path to the top of the tree to become a shining star.


	11. Chapter 11

**Ultimate Amiss XI**

 **"Be a good machine."**

Izuru was pushing himself up from the bed before he could even really think that particular line of action through. Thankfully, the blade on his neck moved up with him. Along with girl, she was 'stepping' back on her knees, before slipping from the bed to land on the floor.

"What do you mean she's looking through photos?"

Mukuro took a step back, body swaying in place as if she were about to fall over. "Junko mentioned you saying something weird in the infirmary. That it reminded her of someone else. That's why she's going through old photos looking for you." She became still once more after she was done talking, grip tightening on the handle of her blade. For a moment it seemed she would drop it, but she wasn't handling it with ease like before. The veins on her hands were standing out; her grip was too tight.

Maybe they really were sisters. The both of them wore a mask, but it seemed Junko had plenty more at her disposal. Of course, he could be jumping the gun. Mukuro could end up being just as manipulative as Junko, but he was getting the sense that that wasn't the case.

At least she was no longer holding a blade to his throat. Izuru raised a hand to rub at his neck for a moment, checking that the scars weren't too deep. He would need to cover it so his professors didn't notice them and question him about how he obtained them. Or take a test to check his mental health.

"What was it that I said?" He had to know, to be given more of a hint so he could finally put all of this behind him and actually concentrate on his studies. Throughout all of which he had never read about a person being effected by some supposed memory this much, unless they had amnesia. But he had gone and looked through his own medical records earlier and he had never been afflicted with memory loss. Or anything that could have caused it. So this - recognizing someone - was normal; or it would be when he found the answers he needed.

Mukuro actually bit her lip, confirming in his mind that she had been wearing a mask earlier. The sort he would expect of a merciless skilled mercenary, but this girl... "She didn't specify and I didn't ask. Junko just mentioned that it was the nuisance that was bothering her."

Bothering her? She was bothering _him_. And... did she really call him a nuisance? Had he introduced himself to her? Or did she call him that even with the knowledge of his name? Izuru sighed. It was much too late to be thinking about all of this now. He couldn't even accurately remember all the details of that day at the moment. In the morning he surely would, but... This was quickly becoming a waste of time.

"You sure you can't give me something more? How far was she looking back? Just a few years or more?"

"I don't know. She was looking at a wide range of photos, mostly of public shoots where fans or passerbys could be seen. There was another pile she had already gone though, at least partially. But she clearly didn't find you in them and when I left she still hadn't made any progress." Mukuro paused, grip relaxing around the blade now, eyes narrowing at him once again. "Which is why I will not say it again. Leave Junko alone and stop watching her."

Izuru didn't particularly see a reason to repeat himself either, but if she had that mask up again he needed to find a way to knock it back down. "You admitted that Junko thought she might have known me because of something I said in the infirmary. Even if in passing at one of her shoots or something I still want to know where I recognize her from. If you help me with that I won't bother Junko. I just want the evidence and then I'll drop the issue. This has been bothering me a lot longer than it has Junko, and if she is interested in figuring out who I am now then it would be to her benefit as well."

Her lips had drifted down into a frown, but she wasn't glaring. "You don't really expect Junko to remember every idiot that shouts at her shoots."

Izuru resisted the urge to point out that she had just called Junko's fans idiots or even make a comment of her jab at him. He didn't particularly care what she thought about him. As long as she would help him in this endeavor; and she wasn't saying no. "She was looking at two different sets of photographs, right? And I'm sure she has even more. I'm not asking for her photographs since it could have been years ago that I met her in the first place. But there has to be something else of hers that could have the information I want."

"Yes, that would be correct. But Junko doesn't keep things like journals-"

That second of hesitation was all he needed. "No journals, but something else that would have more detail than a photo?"

Mukuro took another step back, bringing the blade up to her chest, sheathing it to cradle in her hands a moment later. "There are a series of letters I received from her while I was away doing business. They stretch far back enough that if she did encounter you, you're probably in them. Someone with your talents of annoyance would have been mentioned even once. If you had said something particularly out of the ordinary."

"Would it be okay if I took a look through them myself? You can pick out the ones that couldn't possibly have any mention of me."

"I can bring all of them over tomorrow night. If you really are just looking for when you met Junko and are going to leave her alone, then you're not using the excuse of being in one of the letters I didn't show you." Smart girl, and his preferred outcome for this situation.

Even if he hadn't cared for how it had started. This was preferable to having his throat slit open completely. "Good. Just don't wake me up in the same manner again."


	12. Chapter 12

**Ultimate Amiss XII**

 **"I wish I had monopoly over your mind."**

As his conscious began to emerge from the depths of his mind - away from pointless dreams consisting of a large dark pit of nothingness - Hajime first became aware of the thrumming in his head. It wasn't like a ceaseless pounding, the blows were softer, but still irritating; and there was a decent lax in between them. Though, he wondered just what sort of dream he must have had to cause such a headache the moment he woke up.

It must have been about the reporter he had spoken to earlier, in which case he was perfectly happy with not remembering a single second of it. In fact, he was hoping the yakuza security had been present at the guard station when they took the reporter away. Then there was no way the reporter would try what he had done to Hajime again - or anyone else for that matter.

He shifted on the bed, letting out a short hiss when his left wrist stung when he moved it. One of the reasons he didn't immediately move his legs and try to get up was just in case he had been dream kicking the stupid reporter and hit the wall instead. Whether he had dreamed about the reporter or not, that would be his excuse if anyone asked what was wrong. Like his mother... if she was home yet.

Hajime groaned when his head reminded him with a definitive _tap_ that he should go and get a pain killer to make it go away. As it was starting to increase in tempo now that he was more-or-less awake. Wait. That didn't make sense; and why was the sound coming from outside his head?

He turned his head, squinting at a monitor. A green zig zag line playing pong on it, while it issued that noise every time the line went up.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._

He quickly decided he would take this headache over the consistent sounds coming from that machine. If his arm didn't feel so heavy he would search for an off switch, but... Hm? His arm didn't just feel heavy, but wet as well.

It took him a moment to register the one other noise in the room. A sort-of huffing, muffled by the fabric of the sheets. There was no doubt left in his mind when another second passed. It was the sounds of a person sobbing, a woman by the breathy little gasps that split the air in between each muffled sob.

Hajime opened his eyes fully, blinking at the bright light reflecting off beige walls. This wasn't his room. His gaze settled on the machine for a second, recognizing it as a heart monitor. How had he missed that little detail? What did he think it was a second ago? An alarm clock? Based around pong... that would actually be pretty neat.

 _Focus._

He turned his head, gaze flickering around the room: taking in the simple furniture, an actual clock, and a small tv bolted into the corner of the ceiling; before his eyes rested on a pile of strawberry hair. "Junko?"

There was a brief respite as her form shifted; and he became aware of the sting at his wrist again. He glanced to the right - now feeling the cord on his skin - to see a metal stand near the head of his bed with a blood pack. The liquid was flowing through a tube that disappeared under the sheets, presumably connected to his wrist and sending that blood into his body. When his gaze rested on Junko again he could now see half her face, one eye bright red, but from the blue tinge her contacts were still on.

The room actually seemed to be perfectly quiet for a second, and then her lips parted, "What could you have been thinking?" He nearly shrunk back when she spoke, her voice cracking akin to a whip. "How could you be so selfish to do something like that?" she continued to speak as she stood up, wiping at her eyes, getting both tears and mascara smudges on the back of her hands. "Just what the hell is wrong with you?"

Personally he was on the same thought process, but with her at the center instead of him. Why was she snapping at him like that? He couldn't recall doing anything to upset her. Hajime still didn't even know why one of the first things he had heard when he woke up was her crying. Why he was even in a hospital. It didn't make any sense, but... but Junko was-

"Give me your pillow," she snapped, sniffing a moment later. There were still tears rolling down her cheeks as she bent over him, seemingly to glare at the heart monitor, her right hand hovering over the call button on the arm of his bed the whole time. "I'm going to beat you with it."

Her gaze turned back to him and his left hand raised up on its own, his fingers running along her cheek. Junko was crying. She _never_ cried; or rather she did, but it was so rare he could barely recall the last time she had done it. Besides, even then she hadn't looked like _this_. He wanted to wrap his arm around her, but the angle of her body really didn't allow for it, especially with him laying down. Hell, he would wrap both of them around her if he wasn't convinced the movement would cause the tube to rip from his wrist.

She slapped his hand away from her a moment later. "Since you're awake now tell me what made you even consider doing that. Better yet, tell me exactly what you were thinking when you did it."

Did it? "Did... what?" his tongue felt heavy in his mouth when he spoke.

Just what was going on? He wished he knew, so Junko didn't look like she was about to burst into tears again, now that the tide had seemed to slow. "You can't _not_ know. Hajime," his name on her lips sounded like a dying animal; a tear slipped from fluttering eyelashes. "The security in your neighborhood tried to speak with you after dealing with some stupid incident in front of your house. They wanted you your side of the story or _something_. I don't know. But when they entered your house you were on the floor of the kitchen, bleeding from a cut on your wrist, unconscious."

For a moment he just stared at her; and then he blinked and she was crying again, collapsing against his side once again, in the same exact position as when he had found her.

Security had found him? Inside his house like...

"Junko-" He wanted to ask her for details, anything that might help him put the whole picture together when she started talking swiftly,

"The doctor said you might have a concussion from when you fell, after suffering from blood loss. They say you probably blacked out when your head hit the ground, that you might have slipped on the tile after... doing what you did."

Again he wanted to ask: did what? She couldn't really be insinuating what he thought. That... that was just ridiculous, but he needed to check, he needed to know that that wasn't the case. she couldn't really believe something like that, could she?

"Junko," he spoke softly, "The doctors didn't say anything about a suicide, did they?" From the sudden shaking of her shoulders they must have. He could feel his blood boil as he watched her body tremble at the side of the hospital bed.

How could they say something like that to her? It's not like they were there, they couldn't know for sure if he attempted suicide or not. So why tell Junko that? What could have caused them to think that in the first place?

Hajime pulled his left arm up from under the covers, looking along the back for anything that would indicate what had happened. There appeared to be a bandage wrapped closer to his hand and he turned his arm over, to see the thick white gauze that encompassed his wrist. Just from looking at it he could tell the wound must have been bad. There was even a small pink stain that must have bled through the center of the bandage.

Even so... to just assume that was completely unprofessional. What sort of hospital did that? And-

"What's the last thing you remember?" Junko head was now raised, chin resting on his blanket covered arm, looking at him with tears still swimming in her eyes. Though, she was blinking quickly to keep them at bay, staring at him as if his answer would decide whether the dam broke again or not.

He couldn't be responsible for her crying so often in such a short time. No, it was more like he didn't want to be responsible, but... What was the last thing he remembered? "I was on the phone. I had just entered your number and then-" And then what? Had she answered? Had he left a message? Is that what had her so convinced that he had attempted suicide? _Had_ he left some sort of suicide message on her phone?

"Then what?" Junko asked, voice clearly strained, as if she were having a hard time speaking.

"I..." Hajime glanced from the cut to his wrist, then to her. "I don't know."

He immediately knew when the first tear slid down her cheek that it had been the wrong thing to say. She slumped forward, face buried in the gap between his arm and the rest of his body, crying again.

If he knew what to say, how to comfort her; he would. But his gaze was sliding from her to the closed door. This was all that doctor's fault. Whoever had put it into Junko's mind that had tried to kill himself. He wanted to believe the security for the neighborhood wouldn't have made random stabs in the dark as to what might or might not have happened. If she had even been there.

Junko hadn't said a word about being at his house, but she had obviously heard about his supposed suicide - some freak accident, like what one would find in a bad sitcom. She had probably gotten a call or text from security since he had added her onto the list of people to call if anything happened, besides his parents that is.

They either hadn't checked their phones yet, were still across town, or stuck in traffic judging by the time on the clock. He would need to convince them later that he hadn't tried something so stupid. No wonder Junko had been questioning him before, and he still wish he knew the answer to every question, but-

"I didn't try to kill myself, Junko." He needed to convince _her_ first. Every time she let out a sniff, a _sob_ ; it felt like he was being stabbed in the chest, knowing he was responsible for her pain. He didn't want her to suffer because some idiot doctor with a degree from some prestigious school thought they knew everything. "Junko, please look at me."

There was a huff as she raised her head just enough for him to see her eyes staring back at him. "How can you know that when you don't even remember what happened?" her voice kept cracking on every other syllable, and she was no longer making an effort to keep the flow of tears back.

He wanted to answer, but his mouth closed up. She wanted concrete evidence, and he just didn't have it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Ultimate Amiss XIII**

 **"We were pulled into the devil's lair."**

Because of Mukuro he had to wake up early and get rid of the dried blood on his neck, and find something adequate to hide the scars that wouldn't raise any suspicions when Yasuke came in to do to a check up. It was unfortunate that he wasn't coming in a few days later, when the scars would have had time to heal.

That girl really had bad timing, but he expected her to be here earlier tonight so he could make a good dent in those letters. And possibly not wake him up in some life-threatening manner if she happened to be late. He doubted she would waste much time after he more-or-less promised to not 'stalk' Junko, as she had put it before leaving just this morning. Much earlier this morning.

Izuru held back a sigh as Yasuke entered his room moments after he had put on what he would be wearing for today. He was early... but, he had covered the scars in time, so it didn't matter.

Yasuke seemed equally surprised to see him awake. "You're not planning to sleep through the examination this time?"

Personally he thought this particular joke to be getting old, but just shook his head. He might as well tell a partial truth in this instance. Maybe this recent obsession of sorts had come over him because of some medical reason. If it had his neurologist should be able to figure it out. "Couldn't sleep."

Yasuke's demeanor almost instantly changed to a professional one. "Why not?" he asked, as he opened one of the drawers in the room, getting out the equipment he would need for the examination.

"My mind has been... busy." It seemed the most appropriate way to explain his situation without giving anything away. If he could get help so he wasn't continuously thinking about where he had seen Junko in the first place he wouldn't even need those letters. But since neither option was assured to give him a desirable outcome it was best to get as many options as he could. If this went on for another month he really wouldn't be able to sleep because of her.

He sat up on the bed before Yasuke even turned around, so when he did Yasuke seemed to regard him for a moment. "Are you feeling stressful from studies? The mid-terms are coming up."

If that was his problem they wouldn't even be talking about it right now; he never got stressful over studies. More than once his teachers had compared him to a sponge, just soaking up all the knowledge they ever threw at him. He found each piece of it fascinating and if he wasn't thinking about Junko he would be turning those very pieces in his head right now, figuring out every aspect of it, how it could be applied to situations his teachers couldn't even think up.

"No. Something else has been on my mind."

Yasuke appeared to wait, but when Izuru didn't offer up a more elaborate answer the teen just sighed. "Right. Arm." Izuru held up his right arm, if just to annoy Yasuke as every other time they had done the left first.

He went silent the moment Yasuke began the examination in earnest. And of course his thoughts wandered to Junko. He hoped the letters would actually help him in finding if he knew her or not. It was tiring thinking of all the possibilities in his mind and not knowing which one was correct or if he had missed one; if the theories he had even made sense with what he knew. Which was nothing, at the very least since the letters had been written by Junko he might figure out how her mind works, or find something he could use to get the answers he wanted from her.

Perhaps even Mukuro would have more to tell him once he went through the letters. She had made it sound like she would be looking into other things when she had left. Of course, those other things could just be checking up on Junko, but at the same time he hoped she had thought of another possibility where to possibility find the answers. Especially since Junko herself now seemed curious about him as well.

He wished he knew what it was he had said that made her even consider looking through old photos for him. If he was in one of those photos - if it was years ago - there was still a chance she wouldn't recognize him. It's not like a single person in the world had gone through life with the exact same haircut, styles of clothing, or anything really. Plenty of people went through phases whether it had to do with the current fashion or something more obscure. He couldn't exactly wait around for her to pick out a photo that vaguely resembled him.

His leg jerked when Yasuke hit his knee cap with one of those little metal hammers, and his mind snapped back to the present, knowing the examination was now over with that action.

"Well," Yasuke began as he went to put the equipment back in the drawer. "You're fine physically, everything is working like it should. I want to run an EEG though, after you're done with your classes for today. Everything will be ready to go when you come back into the room."

Izuru only gave a nod of his head in reply. Mukuro had slipped into his room even with those security cameras. He could ask her tonight to go and get a copy of the results from the EEG so he didn't have to ask Yasuke himself. It would look suspicious if he suddenly took an interest in them now, especially after telling Yasuke those things; as vague as they had been he didn't want the professors to know that _he_ thought something might be wrong with him mentally. Yasuke would definitely report it if he asked for those results.

And they already seemed concerned about him. Not just because he had slipped out of the building twice recently, but-

"Hey." Izuru focused on Yasuke when he spoke, "I heard you snuck out again just yesterday. You went to the infirmary as Mahiru put it, to check up on Junko Enoshima. Is that right?"

He had really expected someone to ask about that incident sooner rather than later. "I heard someone get hurt on the field outside and went to see how the infirmary operates. I admit to being curious if it was actually serious or not, but I wasn't aware who either of those girls were. Besides, it wasn't exactly a good idea to go and observe that day since the school nurse wasn't even in, and I appear to have missed you. That and it was just a sprained ankle, nothing too exciting." His teachers had gone over some medical procedures a couple months ago, so this excuse he had fabricated should stop any further questions as to just what he had been going in the infirmary.

"You're interested in seeing some more complicated medical procedures at work?" With Yasuke's chosen line of questioning and his excuse he just gave a nod of his head. In ordinary circumstances he would like to see a bunch of things firsthand that his teachers only ever talked about. The images in books could only tell someone so much. "I'll check to see if Mikan has anything appropriate on her schedule and ask if it would be okay for you to observe then. I'm still curious though; how did you get out of this building without anyone seeing you?"

Ah, that's right. It must have been obvious that the first time he had slipped out that he had put some serious thought into it. Izuru had actually had to plan around their schedules and try and figure out Junko's schedule based on when he saw her outside, and what he heard from fellow students. But the second time... he hadn't put a single thought into it. He had just moved, and somehow everything had worked out long enough for him to check if Junko was okay. "Luck."

Yasuke's hand stilled for a moment on the door knob he had just grasped. "Luck?" A moment later a chuckle escaped from him. "I see. Be ready for that EEG when you get back from classes." Yasuke opened the door and left the room, leaving Izuru with a small frown etched onto his face.

What was so funny about that? It was weird, considering the security on the floor of this building that he inhabited. Even before they added the cameras it had been top notch. He shouldn't have been able to just slip out of the building on such short notice.

Was that what was funny? He was pretty sure he was missing something here, but Yasuke was gone now so he couldn't ask. If he would have even answered. He might have just brushed him off with a side comment about it. Something that wouldn't have made any sense. Yasuke liked to make obscure references, and Izuru was pretty sure it was just to mess with those around him.

Fortunately his teachers kept all questions to the subjects they taught. So Yasuke was probably suppose to tell them about his conversation with Izuru later that day. For all he knew they were talking about it right now. Another teacher or two would be with Yasuke in his room now, getting the equipment ready for the EEG.

He was actually a little anxious to get to it, for his classes just to end. Unfortunately they seemed to drag on today and he had to stop himself from tapping his foot on the floor. It wasn't something he usually did so it would have earned a weird look from his teachers; but he was curious if anything would come up on the test. If it did then he was hoping he could just throw all of these thoughts away.

So when his classes were finally over he had to force himself to walk back to his room, sit down on the hard metal chair, and just close his eyes. There was no reason for him to be awake during the procedure and Yasuke might have asked him to go to sleep anyways; if it wasn't the first thing he did upon getting into the chair. So he didn't feel Yasuke stick those electro pads on his head or hear the little machine start buzzing once everything was set up. The odd little writing utensil recording the activity of his brain.

When he did wake up it was dark, and there was only one other person in the room. Judging by the sound of the door closing behind her Mukuro had just got here. Perfect. He could just look through the letters without worrying about being tired tomorrow, then.

"Do you actually have a mental illness?" Mukuro asked, setting a box on the counter. "Have you even considered that that's why you think you know Junko?"

His lips tugged down into a frown at her words. Junko must have told her the excuse his teacher had made when they found him in the infirmary. "Are those the letters?" He didn't care to play games with her when he could get right to his search.

"Yes." Mukuro seemed focused on the chair he was sitting in.

Right. There was one other thing he needed from her. Izuru sat up, resting his arms on his knees. "If you really wish to know if I have a mental illness then why don't you go and take a look at the EEG results from the test that was done today?"

Mukuro frowned, looking as if she was about to snap at him for throwing her words back at her; but he really did want those results. He didn't need her to not take him seriously, but at the same time he didn't care for the way she was treating this agreement of theirs. She clearly didn't believe that the letters would get him anywhere. Well, _he_ would be the judge of that.

"If you wouldn't mind that is. I would like a copy of the results to go over them myself."

This seemed to throw her off guard and he could see that professional mercenary mask of hers crack. "Eh? What, you don't believe you know Junko either?"

"That is what I'm trying to find out. You don't seem to have a hard time getting around here. Would it be a problem for you?"

"N-no. It wouldn't, but-"

"Then I'll start looking at the letters. You can come back again when you're able. Just fold the results and slip them under the tile beneath the examination table. You should be able to access it by just removing the metal plate on the north side. I'll make sure it's loose."

Mukuro glanced to the examination table before giving a nod. "Okay." At least she wasn't trying to argue why it wasn't any of her business or something like that. Like he had first suspected she might say.

She left through the door again as he got up, moving over to the box so he could finally start looking through those letters.


	14. Chapter 14

**Ultimate Amiss XIV**

 **Sorry this chapter took so long to come out. I kept rewriting parts of it.**

 **"One track mind. One track heart."**

His fingers twitched at his side as the word _suicide_ was spoken once again. Just what did he have to do to convince them that he hadn't tried to kill himself? Why were they so convinced that was the only possibility in the first place?

Sure, there had been no one else there to witness what really happened, but at the same time he couldn't remember what had happened either. So it's not like there was any proof either way, unless they were taking his silence - his behavior - as proof. He scowled at the plaque on the wall of the psychiatrist's office. Was that it? Did they think he was lying about not knowing because he didn't want to admit to attempting to kill himself? What a load of horseshit. He hadn't done anything in the past to make them think he would do that, did he?

Hajime glanced at his parents from the corner of his eye.

They were sitting to his left, listening intently while the psychiatrist spoke about what to do to avoid other instances 'like this.' It had happened _once_ \- No, it hadn't happened _at all_. They were all just jumping to a conclusion without any evidence to point to it. Or they were simply making up evidence from who-knows-where.

He gave a snort when the psychiatrist said, "It's not uncommon for people to just randomly commit suicide. Sometimes the pressure of work, social relations, and school just get to be too much. There are signs usually of a person thinking of turning to suicide, but other times it's sudden. The latter happens most often when the person just went through something traumatic, a relative died, something important in their life changed suddenly. Like breaking up with a girlfriend. There are many reasons that can lead to people wanting to kill themselves. You just need to see the signs-" causing his parents and the doctor to glance at him. It's not like they weren't aware that he was here. He simply had ignored them since being told he had to come here and listen to the psychiatrist talk about suicide. Sure, he had answered a few questions - alone in this very room, for privacy - before refusing to speak further and tuning his parents out a second later when they had also entered the room; but that was it.

His parents had been the ones asking the questions for awhile now while the psychiatrist informed them of 'the situation.' By all accounts it looked like he was taking the same route as the doctors back at the hospital had. Of course he was, given the same diluted information as everyone else. If he just had a witness so everyone knew he didn't try to kill himself like he kept telling them...

His gaze dropped from his parents and the psychiatrist, and they want back to talking having not gotten any sort of intelligent input from Hajime. It just wasn't worth it, it would be a waste of breath - of time - to try and convince them otherwise. His parents would believe whatever the doctors told them rather than what he said, and their opinions of him didn't really matter anyway. Junko on the other hand... he didn't want her thinking he had tried to commit suicide.

So what if he didn't have proof? They didn't either. Everyone was just _assuming_. Hadn't they ever heard how stupid that was? How assuming just made an ass out of you?

Well, he guessed all his parents could do: just assume. They were gone so often that even if he _had_ been debating suicide that they wouldn't have noticed any of the signs. His father would hurriedly eat breakfast and run out the door, more often than not he had left the house before Hajime was even up. His mother was perhaps a little better: checking to see if he did his homework on the nights she was home, giving him a loose hug and a kiss that felt like a feather on his cheek before running out the door to meet with a client, a cup of coffee in one hand and her briefcase in another, keys jingling from a finger. Hajime was always the one to lock the door in the morning and unlock it in the evening, turning off the few lights he had turned on before going to bed.

In the beginning he had a nanny, before he began going to school that is. She had watched him when he was too young to attend, when his parents weren't there; which was most of the time. Nothing had changed when he did go to school, other than the nanny not showing up, being handed the keys to the house, a whistle, and being introduced to the neighborhood's security again. He was suppose to call them first if he had any problems, then.

Not that that had changed much. Now he simply knew what to call them for and when to call a specialist if something in the house broke or he found a leak... whatever, really. On more than one occasion he would just send word to the kids in school that there was a party going on at his house. They would show up on the promise of booze, x-rated movies and the like, get drunk, 'dance' - more like trying to mate in public, - pass out or leave speeding down the hill in their cars. In the morning he would call for a maid to clean the house before his parents got home days later.

He wouldn't be surprised if any parties he had had gone unnoticed by his parents. Security didn't say a word about them; there was enough space in between the houses that any noise caused by students he had never met - never spoke one damn word to - didn't trouble anybody.

So his parents had to believe the doctors, paramedics, and the damn psychiatrist when they said Hajime had attempted to kill himself for unknown reasons. They didn't know enough about his life to come to their own conclusions. How could they when they were never there? Sure, they threw birthday parties for him when he was a kid, but as he got older they would just send his presents to the house while they working.

If the law he ever realized that he was left alone as a kid for more hours than was allowed they would have been put on trial for child neglect, among a bunch of other things as well; he was sure of that. Not that it mattered anymore, it was just annoying having his parents suddenly poking their heads into his life and acting like they gave a damn after everything.

"I think that's enough for today." Finally, the time was up. "Well, it was good to see you again, Hajime." He rolled his eyes as the man placed his papers back into the appropriate file. The man clearly turned his attention back to his parents then, "I think we made some good progress today. Thank you for coming."

His parents thanked the psychiatrist - it was the proper behavior one expected - and began getting up. His mother asked him if he needed money for a cab and his lips twisted down.

"I _didn't_ try and commit suicide," Hajime snapped through gritted teeth as he got up from the chair, shoving it forward into the desk so the items on top rattled a bit. He walked quickly out of the office, letting the door fly shut behind him as he hurried down the hall, not wanting to hear a word from his mother about how he shouldn't be acting like that.

 _"That's not how I raised you."_

You didn't raise me, I raised myself. And occasionally she would remind him of his manners, point out which silverware to use when she brought him along to a social gathering. So that he didn't look like an animal at the table. Which he learned to set only by asking the maid; it's how he learned quite a bit, the sort of stuff they didn't teach at school, because it was common sense, or simply _expected_. Not that all his classmates had common sense, sometimes he wondered just how having parents around was suppose to help anyone grow up.

He can hear his parents leaving the office just as he turns the corner, but he knows they won't come after him. They have their work to get to. Acquiring the latest painting for their clients or going to a gallery to get some more to hang up around the house before they inevitably sold them for an even higher price. Or whatever else it was they had added on to their list for buyers after all these years.

After winding his way through the halls for awhile, finding his way to the back of the building; he finds her. Or perhaps it's that she found him.

Junko races forward when she sees him, her hands locking onto his arm like usual; but this time she walks rather than runs with him. Her footsteps aren't pounding on the linoleum, but merely tapping as she moves down the hall with him, asking a question that seems to have become her new greeting for him, "How did the appointment go?"

As if it'll ever be different than last time. _It was humiliating_ , sitting there, listening to the doctor and his parents discuss what had happened to him; like it was all a soap opera. It left him feeling less like a human and more like a mouse, being studied, poked and prodded at until the desired effects took place. It was like being told _this is what happened and this is why it happened._ Oh, and by the way? _This_ is how you're going to get better. Going to appointments and being given some little pill that was suppose to make it so he didn't think suicidal thoughts were suppose to _help_ , they said.

Well, it didn't. And the psychiatrist might say it's because he doesn't take the pills, but Hajime doesn't _need_ them. He never tried to kill himself and that's that. Why did everyone keep questioning him on that matter? He knew, damn it. He knew he would never - couldn't - have tried to kill himself - _right?_

Hajime's hands clench as he snarls for what must be the umpteenth time, " _I never tried to kill myself_."

Junko stops in her tracks, hands slipping from his arm as she turns to face him. "Of course, you didn't." It sounded like more of the same, the exact words he would hear from everyone else when he told them that - tried to, really. They never believed him, taking the 'professionals' opinion instead. So it's not like he didn't expect such a response. It's just that... it wasn't suppose to come from _her_. She was suppose to believe him, not those other people.

Hajime had her shoved against the wall to their right in the next second, his head feeling like it would split open at any moment as he dug his fingers deeper into her side; so he wouldn't fall over and pass out from the thundering ache in his head. "I _didn't_ do that, not to myself." That's it! There had to have been someone else there in his house, waiting to slash at him and slam his head to the ground! Who cares if security _says_ they didn't see anyone or evidence of forced entry? What other explanation could there possibly be? He couldn't have... There was just absolutely no way- "I would _never_ do that. Not to you. I couldn't leave you like that. Don't you know that?"

Junko didn't reply and finally the mind-numbing pain in his head died down, just enough for him to see what he had done.

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping back to his side. "I... I'm sorry," he muttered, raising his hands back up to press them to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I shouldn't have done that."

There was the sound of heels tapping at the linoleum, stepping closer to him, and then fingers had gripped his wrists, pulling his hands down and away from his face. "Does it still hurt?" Before he could reply Junko had placed a hand on his forehead, fingers moving down to his cheek and he tries to follow the movement by leaning into her touch.

Hajime gives a nod of his head when her fingers stroke his cheek, moving back up to his forehead after only a few seconds. He wishes it was her lips pressed to the skin there instead, giving him a little kiss to take the pain away, and it would work too, because it was _her_.

In a fairy tale maybe, this was reality.

He sighed softly as her fingers pressed against his skin. When did he become such an idiot?


	15. Chapter 15

**Ultimate Amiss XV**

 **Wakey, wakey~ little brain.**

 **Warning for: suggestive material, violent imagery, and a** **thorough** **helping of irony.**

 **"'Cause the girl, she's hiding horns."**

 _Dec. 25_ _th_ _X0X1_

Straw House,

You fucking little pig, I can't believe the audacity of you sending me your stupid letters about what you've been up to since mom and dad left you in a foreign country after getting that free trip from their job. Which, by the way, they cheated if you didn't already figure it out yourself. It was one of those "best employee" things. Could you imagine them getting a _Best_ anything? Of course not, you're too stupid. And you thought I would be too stupid to find you, didn't you?

Well, you're reading this letter aren't you? So I'm not as dumb as you thought. And don't think for a second that I was surprised when I found out just where you disappeared to. You fit right in with that band of liars, murderers, and thieves. I'm sure you'll grow up in a jail cell just like the rest of them.

So, "how have I been?" you keep asking?

Perfect. _Fucking perfect_. Why don't you tell me how clean it is in prison, how you get fed every day? Now that I think about it, you probably _have_ become a pig. Just thinking about how fat you must be makes me sick.

Little piggy went to the market with a basket. Little piggy dressed herself up into the much more favorable red cape. Little piggy went door to door asking for sweets. Little piggy stabbed the kind old woman with her claws through the basket that held bottles of poison labeled as medicine. Little piggy handed out these bottles for each piece of candy she received.

Fenrir Ate The Pig.

 _Feb. 14_ _th_ _/ 49107_ _N_ _ō_ _Day_

Steel Pen,

You _do_ think you're better than me. Running away like you did. You think you're the only one of us that could get away from _them_ , didn't you? They may have been the ones to leave you overseas, but you're the one that didn't try to find your way back. You are such a fucking coward. Not able to face your own parents for the crimes they committed; worse, you're actually committing them yourself. Well, two can play at that game.

Actually, since you asked; no, I haven't seen those worthless pieces of trash that you still call "mummy" and "daddy." I don't need them, and if you actually gave a damn you wouldn't be across a fucking ocean. And I don't need you, either. So don't send me anything in the mail to "help" ever again. I don't need your blood money, got it? You may be sleeping in the dirt, but I'm not. So don't bother sparing me a second of your time. If you haven't already take your worthless money back; you should have already found it enclosed inside the envelope with this letter, but I know how stupid you really are. You probably tore the thing open instead of using a letter opener. If I were to guess you would use the opener to open someone's guts. I'm right, aren't I? _Say it._

Why don't you tell me how your first time was? And then maybe I'll share mine.

Z0C!-/3^O

 _Nov. 25_ _th_ _54_ _-_ _/|__ _134_

Nyan,

Have you sold yourself yet, sister? For a piece of bacon, perhaps? Yes? No? Right up your alley? Between your canyon? What if I slip some cash into your waistband? Are you going to go and dance on a strangers lap? The slacks damp beneath your thighs, a piece of driftwood digging into your backside? Oh, but wait, there's _more_. Everywhere, they're digging into your skin. Especially where it's soft and _plump_. Lips, ass, a little side boob. Lean back a bit, tilt your hips; "that's perfect." So, have a penny, sis. You earned it with that nasty body of yours.

Don't worry, you can get more. You can be swimming in a sea of pennies if you'll take them and a couple more of their friends. They'll write up on the blackboard who's in first place, who is in last. It'll be _fun_. You can be the playing field while they ask who you liked best; just for shits and giggles of course. They don't actually care. There's plenty more like you, that will beg for a piece of bread. Some vodka to forget how far you've fallen.

Are you feeling violated yet? That is what they want, _every single one_.

I'm so sick of these perverts, asking for a panty shot, "lower that small triangle you call a bikini top because it's hiding your nipple." Disgusting. Just the place for you, really. As if I would ever stoop to that level, but the bastards keep asking even when you throw them out of the building.

It's really tiring, having to listen to the same requests day in and day out. Showing off your body like that isn't what modeling is about. It's about the _product_ , and my body isn't in the catalog. Men are so stupid, but the law doesn't allow you to dig your heel into their throat. Unless it's fake of course, for a photo shoot; then they would just _love_ it. Fucking pigs. How much do you think they would enjoy it if I took a baseball bat and hit them right on the tip? Crushed their so called "balls," slit their throat with the razor in my heel and just watch as they bleed out? Would they apologize then? Or just beg for their life?

You can bet your sorry ass they would do the latter. Right, like that's going to help you after what you said, what you did. Ha!

(=^..^=)

 _Dec. 24_ _th_

Muba,

Fenrir currently holds 194 written contracts, 39 of which are active, 64 are "pending substantial payment," 15 being paid off in services rendered, and 76 have been recorded as finalized, pending shreddage. The shredded and verbal contracts count upwards of 600, we'll go with a total of 666 because it's my favorite number.

My guess would be that in the time you've been with them so far you've contributed a whopping 0.00001% So not even one complete contract. I could tell you how many contracts I've filled for my agency, but I'm sure that would just make you feel even worse than you already do, and I would _never_ do that.

I'm too busy getting the contracts I need when this place won't even pay for my supplies. Did you know I have to give back the outfits I wear for their shoots? Apparently you need more than just a hundred dozen of old men as your fan base for them to do that. This sucks. They won't let me pick out the outfits either, the ones that would get me onto the covers of top magazines because they think it wouldn't work, because it's not "in." These people are so stupid. The only thing they've done correctly is hosting an auction which showed me as a valuable asset because of him throwing so much money at the one photo that was barely suggestive, by which I mean I wasn't in a swimsuit. I was actually dressed up in an outfit I had chosen, but it wasn't for an actual shoot; just a testing shot. It's the only time I was able to pick out something myself.

I haven't been able to find where he put it in that house - mansion - yet. I thought he would put it in his room with the way he... stares? looks at me? It's different than the others; those older men. Technically he _is_ older than me by one year. His face turns red whenever I catch him.

I'm going to use that money from the auction to get my own place, even if it's tiny and filthy it'll be mine. And then maybe when I visit that picture might turn up. I'm not going to tell him where it is, he might... never mind.

/

 _Mar. 3_ _rd_ _~O~_

Nosey,

Do I go around asking questions about your life? No. You want to know why? No. Well, here's the answer for you anyway: because you're a piece of shit. And when I mentioned my place being 'filthy' is was figurative. I would never lower my living conditions to your standards. You wouldn't believe how the surfaces shine in that god damn mansion. That maid is thorough as fuck, not to mention she kept trying to raise me of all things. Mr. and Mrs. Hinata must have told her what had happened to my parents when I was living with them.

That boy you referred to is Hajime, their son, obviously. And no, as I stated before he isn't like those older men. Of course, he hasn't tried to grab my ass or boobs _yet_ (not to say he his gaze hasn't lingered there). He's more like a puppy than a dog, following me around the way he does. Harmless, really. He wouldn't do anything to "hurt" me, so stop your worrying. Actually, he's not even much of a puppy; his "tail" might wag when I'm around, but he doesn't jump on me or anything. The boy lacks the confidence to do anything other than look.

Besides, I don't have to offer anything up but my time to make him do what I want; if I want or need his assistance he'll come running with a snap of my fingers. I've already had him come with me during my shopping trips, to hold my bags while I'm at the store. Can you imagine that? A guy willingly holding your bags? Listening to you prattle on about fashion? And then not even allowing him to walk back to your apartment with you? Even when he insists that it's just to make sure you're safe? (okay, he didn't say it directly; i told you he doesn't have the confidence. but then he would insist if he knew where i actually lived now) It's practically unheard of. Well, you probably wouldn't know about any of that. Anyone you ever met would have just stared at you lecherously.

For a mercenary you suck at your job. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're making it up. You're not actually a member of Fenrir are you? Nah, I think you're just their glorified whore.

)~(

From what Izuru had seen of the letters so far they were hardly eye opening; he had figured out for himself that Junko wore a mask in public, this was just proof of that. Her true character was revealed in these letters to Mukuro, understandably because the two were sisters. Even if the two of them looked nothing alike.

He would think the two of them came from a separate mother or father; that they were simply half sisters if not for the document he had found before that showed them as twins. The only logical conclusion that left him with was that their parents - or somewhere down the line of either genetics - had been vastly different in the genetic pools themselves. Mukuro had freckles, Junko didn't. Mukuro's eyes were blue, Junko's were... whatever they were beneath those contacts. Mukuro's hair was black, while Junko had dyed her hair into something resembling 'strawberry bubblegum blonde.' That was the only way to accurately describe that exact shade of color, and anyone could tell by looking at it that it couldn't be natural. Nature just wasn't capable of making something like _that_.

Whoever had created such an eye-popping color deserved to be punished. With Junko's mask in place it just served to make people gravitate to her as if she were the center of the universe. A bright sun about reach the end of its life and explode, creating a black hole to draw anybody in that had gotten too close to her beaming smile - wolfish smirk.

It bothered him to some degree, not the kind that sent chills down your spine or raised the hair on the back of one's neck; the sort of thing his mind told him would be normal in a situation like this. But it clearly wasn't normal - Junko wasn't normal - if he wasn't reacting in the way expected of people coming across this sort of information. Then again, this was in reference to normal people, not those who held vast amounts of talent, of true skill. And he still hadn't found anything inside the stack of letters that hinted to her having come across him before. Beyond putting Mukuro down Junko widely talked about herself, and her own problems she was coming across while trying to accomplish her apparent 'rise to stardom.' He didn't believe for a second that that was her actual goal, there was something else she was interested in, but... he hadn't managed to pinpoint it yet.

There were no leads. Not unless he counted this Hajime Hinata, who had clearly been used by Junko in the past. The poor guy was just another victim as far as he could see, but he still had more letters to go through. Perhaps those would give him something to work with.

It would be much easier to through these if the dates included the year, he could only fit a few together going off what the letters had in them before the timeline he was creating fell apart. Not to mention the large time gaps in between the letters, but as far as he could tell Mukuro hadn't kept them in order, but rather thrown together. It looked like they might have used to be organized but then she started pulling out bits and pieces of the timeline and when she put the letters back everything became scattered. In short: it was a pain in the ass to only have the month and day on each letter, and those weird scribbles from Junko of course. Some of which he had managed to find out the meaning behind, but there were a few that just seemed random and held no purpose. Maybe it had for Junko, but he wasn't getting anything from it.

Other than her capacity to kill the people closest to her and not shed a single tear. She was probably incapable of creating them except to manipulate people; in other words: crocodile tears.

Which he hadn't found the least bit surprising.

He would need to get back to reading these once his classes were over for the day, and after he had gotten those papers from Mukuro concerning his EEG as well.


End file.
